#fuck actually there's a fourth too and its a drake. so yet another!

[erythristicbones]

making dragons gods in my lore was a terrible mistake bc i cannot draw a dragon i like to save my life. i got a free pass with EOTA bc i was like "oh these two dragons in particular are like the Highest Gods from which all others spawned. They're meant to be ethereal and hard to comprehend like biblical angels" so i didn't have to think about drawing them

but also now i have 3 separate other stories that each feature a specific dragon as being integral to the plot and i just! can't design them!! literally i haven't liked a single one that ive tried

[vroenis]

Uncharted 4: An Era’s End

It’s recently come to light that game developer Naughty Dog has been subjecting its employees to crunch; the practice of overworking and underpaying staff in order to meet deadlines. This is not unique to Naughty Dog, nor to their current project pending release later this year, The Last Of US 2. Reports suggest that crunch has been endemic in the working culture of Naughty Dog for some time and this is now no surprise to us as such reports continue to surface about studio after studio, most in the corporately structured, premium funded and managed space we call “triple A” or AAA, but many smaller studios and independent spaces also. Several senior and long-tenured creatives have left Naughty Dog quite recently, and some may have been leaving earlier than those that have been reported during what’s turning out to be a turbulent development cycle for The Last Of Us 2.

Each month, as part of the paid subscription to the Playstation Plus online service, Sony offers a small selection of games. For April, one of them was Naughty Dog’s Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End, from which I derived my title. Not only am I here to suggest the studio’s troubles may have begun during the development of this game, first released back in 2016, but the title may have been one of the first significant indications that the book was closing on AAA development as we know it. I appreciate there have been many good voices shouting from the rooftops about the how unsustainable it’s been from before then, but the Naughty Dog for a long time seemed like a light in the dark, signalling that a big studio could still produce good product under strong leadership.

I feel that Uncharted 4 rather than The Last Of Us 2 is the real light, and instead of a light-house, it turned out to be a signal-fire warning that even then the composure of Naughty Dog was an illusion.

This piece is going to contain significant spoilers for Uncharted 4. It’s also not investigative - I just played it for the first time, completed it and I have some thoughts about it; these are my thoughts.

I didn’t like the third game at all. I took nothing away from it. I’ll never play it again as there’s nothing I want to relive from it, so I’d better look up the wiki on what happened in it... well that didn’t help at all as I don’t remember playing any of that, it was so unmemorable. I remember the wandering around in the desert bit and then some shooting in the desert which was all pointless. There were also some puzzles with shadow puppets that were almost good but so short and pointless, those two things sum up my feelings about the third game entirely.

What a way to start.

I’ve replayed the first and second games once each, so I’ve played those each twice thru and have decided that the first game is overlong and poorly paced, and the second game is the best and probably two-thirds good. Honestly, Elena should drop the Drakes in the ocean, run-off with Chloe and keep in touch with Sully because those are the only three characters with any depth and meaning. Let’s roll-back a bit.

I get that Nathan’s supposed to be a charming, happy-go-lucky character and for the most part, it works. Maybe I’m just getting too old for it or it’s wearing too thin. I really think the third game was completely unnecessary. When I review my notes on the fourth game, I think about the emotional quandary it attempts to set up i.e., ultimately that Nathan should be more honest with Elena - spoiler; he isn’t, but don’t worry it all works out *SPIT* - this was already a problem I was ready to face at the end of the second game. Given my feelings on the third game, I’d have much preferred a simple trilogy and conclusion that faced that emotional brunt to wrap things up. Naturally of-course, that’s not how money-spinners work.

If Uncharted 4 doesn’t spend time on Elena, who does it spend time on? Nathan has a brother! To be fair, I love Troy Baker as a voice actor and if there’s one thing that is consistent in Naughty Dog games, it’s excellent voice acting. I don’t know if I’m now biased after seeing so much of Nolan North and Troy Baker on YouTube outside of their VO talent work, but they’re wonderful people and their professional work is always great. The supporting cast is always great, too - so too the villains even if the narrative arcs are always completely absurd. I know these are always a bit of a lark, you can’t take them too seriously so I can’t hold Uncharted up to Kentucky Route Zero (got my mention in) and shake them comparatively, that’s not fair. It’s OK to have an excuse for a romp even if it does wear on a bit over time.

The problems I have with Uncharted 4 specifically are things like the level and environmental design. I’ve never gotten lost in this franchise up until now when it happened in almost every level... several times. I simply didn’t know where to go. There would be absolutely no clear indication of where to go and no assists, no subtle environmental guide and no camera nudges to help. There is a timer that eventually tells the player where to go and at times, this is tied to deaths so at one point I just threw Nathan off cliffs repeatedly to respawn until the hint appeared. This is unquestionably stupid design. I began to wonder if this was due to criticism that previous games had too much hand-holding, but when the UI assist was finally given and I made my way to the next check-point, I would *never* have found it under normal exploratory gameplay.

This remained true during several moments of scripted action sequences, some including during combat which brings up something else I now remember about the third game. I still couldn’t tell you when it was other than I didn’t know where to go and it was stupid, so there you have it. Maybe the third game was the real signal fire in my metaphor, who knows. In any case, constantly reverting to check-points and having to repeat, not understanding why you’re failing when the game isn’t telegraphing what you need for a success state in a scripted sequence is an exercise in frustration I’m not willing to ever repeat. While I’m not a souls-like player, I completely appreciate the admiration and respect for those games because they have rules that are clear to parse. Video games are *all about* providing feedback to the player. I’m not saying it’s easy, it is an incredibly difficult thing to achieve but it is literally the job you set out to do, it is the only vehicle you have to convey the lofty emotions you want to communicate to your audience.

And then there’s the driving. Naughty Dog. Do not put driving in your games. This is something you’re not able to do.

I don’t want to bash the driving so hard because at this point I feel like it may have been bolted on without time to make it stick correctly. This is the first game in the title where the hot-zones for interactions weren’t quite right. Where I bugged out of animations and had check-points or re-spawns instanced or loaded. Where I glitched out and fell off things, where I had to walk back and forth in-front of things to make buttons appear. The edges of that Naughty Dog polish were fraying. I’d attempt to do a thing and it just wouldn’t work, I’d fall to my death. I’d attempt to do the same thing the same way and it would work. Again this is dredging up more nondescript memories of the third game so I’m beginning to have my suspicions about the working environment there and when in the timeline things started getting bad - but cameras and jumping distances got really difficult to judge. One gap at one time would be fine to jump, then another would have you plunge to your death, and they’d be inconsistent to read or judge. These were not frequent, as with the third game, almost as if the artists and level designers were given time to adjust lighting and camera geometry tracking and control mapping as much as possible but just couldn’t get to them all. But throughout the games, it creeps in more and more.

I’d talk about combat - it’s functional, but it’s not interesting. These games don’t add anything interesting to the genre or video games in general. I play the games on easy because I don’t need to prolong the experience, I don’t actually have the physical time - if I could play the games without combat, I would. There are other games to play if I want dexterity challenges which I do engage in, Uncharted isn’t one of them. Even in 2016 I’m not entirely sure this would have turned heads. I realise I’m playing this a full four years later, but it’s hard to think of the sum-total of this game’s parts and see it as relevant...

But you know what? Uncharted 4 visually looks immaculate. Outside of the voice-acting and sound design, without question, the highest priority has been given to the visual fidelity of this game inclusive of the animations. So much has been invested in how the tech works, to the abandonment of everything else, I’d say the for example, the driving suffered the most, level design next, then interaction scripting. The attention to detail in the environments is stupendous...

...yet it’s all hollow. You know what? I don’t care about pirates and adventures anymore. Whatever. By the fourth game, I don’t care. I totally get that the game’s not for me but I played it and I’m writing how I feel about it. You’re telling me a story about a guy who met the person of his dreams and marries, then his brother turns up and he can’t be honest to his wife? Meow meow meow it’s all for the sake of drama so we skip over all the details but the contrivance is too much. You want me to accept these things on face value, then on face value, I say Nathan and his brother can go get fucked.

I took particular issue with the comically brief relationship discussion Elena and Nathan have after she saves him and they set off together in which she concludes she’s with him “for better or for worse”, which from memory the game chapter is titled after. Now either the character genuinely believes she owes him under the sanctity of nuptial obligation or she’s using it as a justification of such. This is a wholly unsatisfying discussion for me was when I finally checked out of this game - sure I should have done so hours before but this was the last straw and the indication that I am definitely too old for this shit - but this is a horrifying and stupid message to be spouting. Elena don’t owe anyone shit. Married or not, she’s free to save Nathan if she wants to, for any reason, but she’s certainly not obliged to. I despise this massive chunk of traditionalist patriarchy smashed into her character and the narrative, even if it is “well it’s just about her character” yea great, so that just re-enforces her as a loyal dog-trophy for the main character in the on-going male power-fantasy shenanigans shit-train. Nathan’s behaviour isn’t exactly selfish but it’s certainly not adult or considerate. He behaves like a child not taking on an appropriate level of responsibility. Others around him, being Elena and Sully, continuously bail him out - literally saving his life while endangering their own, and he continues to behave like a manchild that neither acknowledges their physical and emotional labour nor does he grow and evolve as an individual. What a fucker. Does he ever sort his shit out, ask Elena what she wants to do for a career and support whatever the fuck she wants to do with her life? Of-course the fuck he doesn’t. Know why? Because he’s a literal man-baby. And his brother is too. But that’s OK cos  he’s a fucken jock-hero and a funny guy so as long as we can all laugh about it and the narrative says-so and it all works out in the end and he gets the girl and she ends-up supporting his career anyway, it’s aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall fine.

Nathan should have died and Elena shouldn’t have given a fuck.

I know I know, it’s not that serious. Look I’ve been thru some shit, alright? I can see it both ways. Sometimes you don’t think about stupid shit that deep and sometimes you do. Most of the time, I do, and most of the time, I take it to the nth degree, so yea, shit like that gets to me. I call it bad writing, so no, I don’t like the story. At all. Nathan’s supposed to be flawed but nothing ever costs him. When people make mistakes in life, those mistakes cost. The unfortunately thing is the cost is most often paid by the others around them, and sometimes they themselves never realise it. I don’t like stories where there’s a fuckhead at the centre but everyone still stays happy. Nathan seems to have been given a lesson, but I don’t think he earned it. This is why y’all watch Game of Thrones and are surprised when characters die because you keep consuming narratives with no stakes, and GoT is *still* only middling stuff.

Anyway.

How could Elena’s character have been given more attention? Uncharted 4 isn’t all bad. The most valuable thing Naughty Dog achieved was the recreation of real domestic spaces; the Drake households. Twice, we’re given time and space and encouraged to explore them without being funnelled by level design, events, NPC shepherding or audio cues. Rooms and the objects that fill them are meticulously and beautifully created, and they're given life and purpose in a way that has meaning far beyond all the pirate nonsense that while almost as equally beautiful, is completely vacuous.

Putting on Elena’s vinyl record as her daughter Cassie was the only time I enjoyed the music in the game, and it was a great call-back to Nathan having done the same thing in their house much earlier. Sure, there’s the Drake theme that repeats ad nauseam throughout the series but otherwise the soundtrack is bland and unremarkable adventuring fare. It contributes more to the feeling of this game being out of touch, contrasted to something like Control which certainly has a completely different setting, sure - but that’s part of it, so that affords the creative team room for more modular synths and drones and to have a distinct sound.

Walking thru those houses, first as Nathan but really as the player repositioning themselves from adventurer to ordinary life-living person in a domestic setting, and then as Cassie - daughter of these two amazing characters in an equalling urbane setting yet filled with wonderful objects, made up the most fascinating and enjoyable moments of the game for me. The mess of each room gave the houses the perfect lived-in feel to a degree that most other games struggle to achieve, probably due to how much effort it takes to get that much geometry mapped in - Giant Sparrow’s What Became of Edith Finch is probably one of the few games that has come close. The difference between the tropical islands, decaying pirate mansions and the domestic Drake residences is that the houses felt like everything in there felt like it meant something and was in there for a reason, like it had been part of something. I don’t mean that just for the objects that were intrinsically tied to implicit narrative beats like collectables or even items from countries where Uncharted 4 or prior games are set, but also things like towels, washing baskets, plates and dishes, books and picture frames, shampoo bottles, food - the detail in the fridges! That you can feed Cassie’s dog, Vicky is the most meaningful interaction of the game - by the way, the second most meaningful set of interactions is buying an apple in the market in Madagascar then playing with lemur and letting it take the apple.

Back to the houses, I’m disappointed we never got to walk through one of them as Elena. Now that the core of the franchise is wrapped, I’m left with the impression that she’s the most important character in the series and she’s left woefully under-served. This is a very me thing, and unsurprising. I doubt anyone else cares enough about writing and character to have thoughts like this. They’re into Uncharted for the adventuring and the shooting, but as soon as you present me the opportunity for character drama and you want to have a red-hot go at it, I’m here to set aside the rest of that guff and go for it. The running and jumping and shooting never changes, and I’m here to say that the puzzling could have stepped up orders of magnitude that Naughty Dog never committed to - Crystal Dynamics did far better with Rise Of The Romb Raider, and while the puzzling was never really difficult, the way I described it to a friend was to liken the puzzles to desk toys; not intended to be too challenging, but more satisfying in their tactile nature. I feel Fireproof’s The Room series for iOS and Android are great examples of providing similar sensations.

I don’t mind a game mostly about shenanigans, I just don’t want it centred around a character that won’t learn, or who gets off cheaply. Elena is infinitely more interesting to me - her concerns, her desires - Chloe too, for that matter, and I absolutely am not above making the joke about shipping them as I’m sure thousands have before me (no I won’t write a fanfic about them, I’m sure there are plenty around).

I didn’t play the first The Last of Us. There was a horrifically jarring moment when the game felt it was over-playing its sense of cinema to me, then had a sudden camera zoom transition onto I think the first combat gameplay and I checked out. The tone of that game is trying to telegraph TAKE ME SERIOUSLY and I feel all I’m going to do is read tonally similar things to what I have here but far worse. Also post-apocalypse is easy pickings for bad writing, especially by video games narrative writers, I just don’t have the patience. I’m pleased that there’s lesbian representation in the second game but I’m not sure it’ll be handled with sensitivity. While I’m in no way invested in the game as a product, I continue to be concerned for the welfare of the employees at Naughty Dog, and all game developers everywhere, as always. It is a hugely unregulated industry that is in the process of slow collapse, and now more than ever do we need reform and cultural change.

And in the midst of that, one day we’ll get a decent game that’s about domestic partnerships and wonderful emotional relationships with stunning visual fidelity; maybe it’ll have running and jumping and shooting and maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll end sadly and maybe it’ll end happily but hopefully it’ll be well-written. 

Here’s to Elena.

[theeverlastingshade]

Veteran- Jpegmafia

             A few months ago Jpegmafia released his fourth LP Veteran, and it’s a remarkably cohesive, and stylistically singular record. Veteran is first and foremost a hip-hop LP, but it’s one that’s heavily informed by industrial music, punk, and psychedelia while slathered in noise. A few songs barely have any bars, or opt out of vocals all together for an emphasis on pure texture. When he does rap it’s loose and lively, giving the impression of a stream of conscious approach if it wasn’t so ridiculously clever and well-informed. He straddles a tight line between laugh out loud, tongue-in-cheek absurdity and endearing introspection more successfully than any conceivable peers of his. Though not without its flaws, Veteran is one of the most impressive, and deeply engaging LPs that I’ve heard all year, helmed by perhaps the most interesting MC to have emerged throughout the last handful of years.

              With opening cut “1539 N. Calvert” Jpeg deceptively lulls you into the assumption that Veteran could be a relatively straight-forward record, with a melodic cadence that brings to mind debuts from Kendrick Lamar and Isaiah Rashad. And by the second track any such presumptions are completely obliterated. Over a galloping tom/kick drum rhythm mixed much higher than everything else and maniacal yelps plucked from Old Dirty Bastard’s “Goin’ Down”, Jpeg delivers an explosive verse that takes the alt-right and internet trolls to task, references Mick Foley, and condemns anyone that has an issue with people protesting systemic racism by taking a knee during The National Anthem. When taken together, these first two songs effectively set the stage for much of what’s to come, both tonally and sonically. His eclectic taste and willingness to take risks ensures that Veteran is a consistently thrilling listen, and while not everything here works, even the missteps are thrilling to witness.

               Veteran frequently deviates from conventional song structures, and Jpeg seems to take perverse glee in thwarting listeners expectations at every opportunity. “Rock N Roll Is Dead” begins with disjointed, lo-fi industrial trap as Jpeg threatens a blogger and dares the Alt-Right to rally in Baltimore before subtly transitioning into buttery cloud trap. “Germs” is perhaps the most bizarre song here, with a minimal beat consisting of little more than hi-hats, snares, and a kick drum with shrill textures that seep in and out over which Jpeg provides a variety of different inflections that don’t move in harmony so much as seem to constantly impede one another. On paper it’s a complete disaster, and yet there’s something oddly alluring about the jarring precision with which it comes together. “Williamsburg” finds Jpeg pitching his vocals low amid a plethora of industrial synth textures before opting for a soulful, surprisingly Drake-indebted bridge that seems almost in direct opposition to the brooding arrangements around him. On Veteran Jpeg is following no one’s impulses but his alone, and the album is all the better for it.

                 On an album flowing with colorful and mesmerizing sonics, it’s actually pretty remarkable how much the lyrics not only standout, but are themselves a major draw here. Jpegmafia is one of the cleverest lyricists I’ve listened to in years, and from a few of the song titles alone “Libtard Anthem”, “Whole Foods”, “Macaulay Culkin”, & “I Cannot Fucking Wait Until Morissey Dies” most notably, one can gleam a sense of the delightfully absurdist sensibilities coursing throughout Veteran. On the last song alone he drops so many instantly quotable lines “Fuck a Johnny Rotten/I want Lil’ B”, “I’m the left-wing Hades/26 with a 380”, “4chan on my dick cause I’m edgy/Calm your pale ass down have a pepsi” that following the narrative thread seems entirely beside the point. The same goes for “Williamsburg” which clearly takes shots at the gentrification of Williamsburg, and is completely elevated by his sly use of language when fleshing out the details “I’m in New York like I’m Peter Parker/Wrote a 16 and then I tossed it/If I wanted bullshit/I’d just read Gawker”, “A yuppie pop shit/Call the gun Brittany Jean/When the spears come out/I hit you and JT”. And on “Libtard Anthem” Jpeg drops the crown jewel, quite possibly the best line that I’ll hear all year “Word on the street you’re a Libtard/Word on the street you’re a Bill Maher”.

                 While many of the tracks throughout Veteran are more akin to sketches than full-fledged songs, a few of the tracks here are among the most distinct and compelling that I’ve heard all year. Breakout single “Baby I’m Bleeding” is a legitimate “Yonkers” moment, the kind of song that barrels forth with an unrelenting energy unlike anything else happening in music right now. The first two 50 seconds are pure build-up; a sputtering, undecipherable vocal loop surrounded by scattered percussion and various ad-libs set the stage before Jpeg’s gruff voice comes to the forefront, and from there the sound of hip-hop in 2018 is laid bare. It’s a no-bullshit call to arms that goes straight to the jugular of hypocrisy “It’s ironic you talk jail-time/But ain’t never seen no central booking/It’s ironic you hang with a nigga that beat women/And have the nerve to call yourself girl pusher”, with so much sonic variation that he comes close to approximating an EPs worth of ideas into a single song without overstuffing it.

                 Highlight “Thug Tears” brings the pace down after the whiplash inducing “Real Nega”, offering a melodic, but no less abrasive side of Jpeg’s artistry. He allows his humanity to bleed through here, offering up the duality that exists between the reality of what’s required to survive with the emotional responses accrued from those necessities “I’m a thug, I don’t play with no rap beef/Fuck around, end up on a backstreet/And I done cried so many times/I done did so many crimes”. And despite its relative simplicity with respect to what follows, “1530 N. Calvert” is an immense earworm of a song, folding in mesmerizing hi-hats, a steady kick drum, and warm synths as Jpeg talks shit for 2.5 minutes “Fuck a blog, fuck a fan/Hope my record gets panned”. He’s practically begging you to completely write him off before Veteran really gets going, but the melody he offers up here renders outright dismissal a foolish proposition.

                 There are quite a few industrial and noise-adjacent hip-hop acts that Jpegmafia immediately brings to mind, but he doesn’t sound like anyone else. He’s far too self-aware and eclectic to exist in the shadow of any other act, and you get the sense while listening to Veteran that his next LP could be a complete 180. It’s this quality that makes Veteran such an engaging listen from start to finish; the feeling that you never quite have him pegged down, and the instant that you start to get a sense of what he’s doing or where he’s coming from he sends a curveball your way. This could understandably frustrate some listeners, but it’s difficult not to get the sense that that's what he’s gleefully anticipating, and in fact working towards. I’d be surprised if Veteran ended up being my favorite hip-hop record of 2018, but I’d be just as surprised if any other hip-hop record this year manages to thrill and confound in equal spades to the degree that Veteran does.

Essentials: “Baby I’m Bleeding”, “Thug Tears”, “1590 N. Calvert”

[thecourtreportersportedjorts]

Top 10 Best Hit Songs of 2017

In December of each year, Billboard publishes its list of the 100 biggest hit songs of the last 12 months. In response, I take it upon myself to decide which of these songs were the real hits, and which were the biggest misses. Last week, I tackled the worst, so here are the best. Let’s get started:

10. “Love Galore” by SZA feat. Travis Scott

When I see a fellow New Jersey artist rising up the charts and building a name for themselves, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a little too quick to douse them in praise. In 2015, I did it for Fetty Wap and Charlie Puth before they respectively waned in relevance and proceeded to pump out some of the decade’s worst music. SZA grew up mere minutes away from me, and after a few years just shy of the spotlight, she finally released her critically beloved debut album Ctrl in June. I took a few months to finally get to it, but once I listened to it, I found a beautifully produced, unflinchingly sincere record that delves into the nuances of youth, romance, mental health, and the various ways they intersect.

I wouldn’t even consider “Love Galore” an immediate highlight from the record, and yet it’s still an excellent song. I do have to take a point off for Travis Scott rambling about “ass and titties” in his verse, a needlessly juvenile moment in what’s otherwise a great slice of left-of-center-but-still-grown-and-sexy R&B. Still, his verse is fine altogether, and he sounds right at home over ThankGod4Cody’s production, which is built on off-kilter, reverb-soaked percussion and analog synths that aren’t too far removed from the Stranger Things score.

This is all well and good, but SZA steals the show all on her own, exploring the complications of reconvening with a former fling. There’s a core of darkness to the lyrics, making passing references to Valium and fetishes as she zeroes in on her partner’s seeming infidelity, but she can nevertheless enjoy the situation as “long as [they] got love.” And in a year chock full of godawful vocals excused for their “authenticity,” it’s so refreshing to hear a singer in the mainstream who sounds both organic and skilled. While I may not like this quite as much as “The Weekend” or “Drew Barrymore” or “20 Something,” it’s no less worth your time.

9. “Passionfruit” by Drake

It’s easy for me to start this entry the same way I did for “Too Good” last year, addressing how “Passionfruit” was a diamond in the relative rough of the lopsided More Life “playlist.” While there is some truth to that assessment, More Life is still a noticeable improvement over last year’s uncomfortable, overhyped VIEWS. Sure, it’s still questionable to hear Drizzy put on another new accent (I’d personally like to hear him attempt a Russian accent), but his curation of global sounds is sharper and more generous than ever, and with the exception of truly annoying cuts like “Nothings Into Somethings,” the lyrics are a lot less patronizing this time around. Despite this net positive, it still remains that “Passionfruit” is easily More Life’s best offering, and perhaps Drake’s best single since “Hold On, We’re Going Home.”

For one, “Passionfruit” is built on the same sort of subdued, late-night disco groove that made “Hold On” an instant classic. But the song goes for a stark contrast from the 2013 smash’s optimistic hookup, which is mirrored by the somber minor chords, gorgeous, muted synths, and what is apparently the manipulated sound of a flute. With the tempos of his songs seemingly dropping by the year, it’s good to hear Drake over something with a more propulsive groove again, and yet it still manages to mesh with his trademark atmospherics.

Of course, the lyrical content will always be the most contentious part of any Drake song, and it’s understandable to read “Passionfruit” as yet another retread of “Hotline Bling.” But where that song may have precariously toed the line between genuine concern and alarming possessiveness, the lyrics land a lot more comfortably this time. Even a lyric like “you got issues that I won’t mention” works far better as he seems to finally understand the consequences behind his words and his actions. The end result is Drake at his finest, low-key and calm while still navigating through the most challenging of emotions.

8. “Castle on the Hill” by Ed Sheeran

Now I know this pick will likely come as a surprise to anyone who saw my previous list, where I gave Ed Sheeran the thorough bashing he deserved. I ragged on him for his appearance, his awkward lyricism and his uninspired compositions. I’m sick of the guy at this point, but that’s because I genuinely want to like him. Ed has always shown a genuine talent for crafting songs with memorable hooks and interesting concepts, so doling out plodding love ballads like “Photograph” and cringeworthy radio ploys like “Shape of You” feels like the biggest possible waste of potential. So as tired as I am of hearing songs like these in 2017, “Castle on the Hill” was good enough to remind me why I cared in the first place.

If I could sum up the sound of “Castle on the Hill” in one sentence, it’d be that it sounds like what that mediocre last Mumford and Sons album wanted to be. Built on an insistent drum groove, warm bass, ghostly organs and guitar strumming that hurts my wrist just listening to it, the verses build up to a triumphant chorus indebted to Springsteen and U2. This is one of Sheeran’s more directly rock-flavored endeavors, so his aggressive howls on the chorus sound a lot better here than on “Thinking Out Loud,” and even his falsetto sounds more vivacious than usual.

And in the midst of an album cycle dominated by anonymous songs about sex and TV montage fodder that even Queen B couldn’t salvage, “Castle on the Hill” is the only (good) single that showcases Sheeran’s distinctive songwriting flair. It’s essentially a song about growing up, but where Lukas Graham got it all wrong, this song gets it right. Like on “7 Years,” Ed recounts his younger, troublesome self, running from authority and drinking with his friends. The difference is that he learns from his mistakes, thanks to the people and the town he was sought to defy in the first place. It’s the kind of vivid songwriting that Sheeran excels at, and if he keeps at it (which is a real possibility), he might very well regain a lost fan.

7. “HUMBLE.” by Kendrick Lamar / “LOYALTY.” by Kendrick Lamar feat. Rihanna

As I stated in my previous list, it’s been really interesting to see what the Billboard charts look like with streaming becoming a bigger part of the equation. I already addressed how album tracks can perform just as well as lower-tier singles. Kendrick Lamar’s excellent fourth album DAMN. boasts the best first week streaming numbers of any album released in 2017, and as a result, multiple cuts from the album remained on the charts for weeks on end. “ELEMENT.” and current single “LOVE.” charted high enough that if they had received the proper push as singles, I would probably be talking about them alongside the two singles that actually made the year end Hot 100, chart-topping “HUMBLE.” and the Rihanna collaboration “LOYALTY.”

“HUMBLE.” was the first proper taste of DAMN., which admittedly took some time to grow on me. Sure, the blisteringly sparse, piano-driven beat by Mike Will Made It commands direct attention to Kendrick’s coded, throne-claiming bars, but it’s a far cry from the rich history and experimentation that made To Pimp a Butterfly an all-time great rap album. Still, it’s important to remember that Kendrick - at least when he’s trying - infuses his songs with some really heady subtext. It’s easy to interpret this as K-Dot proving that he can do trap just as well as Future or Migos, if not better thanks to his skillful lyricism. In the context of DAMN., it’s also a warning from the Compton rapper to himself to not let his remarkable success eclipse his message or his roots. Coupled with an instantly memorable hook and quotables like “my left stroke just went viral,” “HUMBLE.” is a well-deserved first #1 for Kendrick.

Like its predecessor, followup single “LOYALTY.” is fairly skeletal in its production, based around a warped sample of “24K Magic” (of all things!). This time, Kendrick teams up with Rihanna, who continues to prove that she can come through with an impressive flow after “Bitch Better Have My Money” and “Needed Me.” The pair explore loyalty in regards to one’s friendships, relationships, faith and ambitions, creatively quoting Jay-Z and Ol’ Dirty Bastard in the process. While the lyrical content is certainly worthwhile, the main takeaway is that Kendrick and Rihanna have truly fantastic musical chemistry, which becomes all the more apparent when they trade bars during the verses. Like “HUMBLE.,” this track is further evidence that even with sights set squarely on the mainstream, Kendrick always aims high.

6. “Bodak Yellow” by Cardi B

When compiling these lists, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the critical acclaim or the social value a song might have. This works both ways - maybe this is what influenced me to place “7 Years” and “Treat You Better” as high I did on my worst list last year. But when Cardi B’s breakout single “Bodak Yellow” became the first single from a solo female rapper to top the Billboard Hot 100 since Lauryn Hill in 1998, I immediately wondered: is it a worthy successor? Considering how many critical outlets have named “Bodak Yellow” one of the best songs of the year (including Pitchfork and The Washington Post, who both named it the best song of the year), a lot of people seem to think so. And even though I wasn’t totally sold on the song at first, I’m now more than happy to join that chorus, because this song is fucking awesome.

In one of her legendary interviews, Cardi has stated that the title “Bodak Yellow” is a reference to rapper and awful human being Kodak Black, whose flow on “No Flockin” serves as the foundation for Cardi’s song. Unsurprisingly, she does an infinitely better job with his flow, not only because she doesn’t sound like she’s having an asthma attack, but because she also delivers each bar with such boundless energy. Unlike Kodak, she also knows when to switch up her flow, capping off both verses with an impressive, Migos-esque (!) flow. A lot of hip hop traditionalists might deride “Bodak Yellow” for a lack of originality, but it’s not about who did it first, it’s about who did it right.

Even the production on “Bodak Yellow” stands out from the trap pack. Sure, it’s built on a simplistic 3-note melody, but it alternates between octaves, creating an alluring sense of unease against the changing hi-hat progressions. But what really surprises is how restrained the song first seems in its low end, using the trademark sub bass kicks fairly conservatively. It gives you the impression that it’s building up to something, and then it happens: as Cardi speeds up her flow, the kicks return in full force, resulting in one of the hardest-hitting moments rap had to offer in 2017. In a year where women deserved so much better, Cardi B is a true force of good, proving that she can go harder than so many of her male contemporaries.

5. “I Feel It Coming” by The Weeknd feat. Daft Punk

If you’ve read any of my lists in the past two years, you probably felt this coming (pun very obviously intended). I’ve raved about The Weeknd so much since then that writing a fifth (sixth if you include “The Hills” from my honorable mentions in 2015) entry about him probably scans as blind fandom or ass-kissing. Truth be told, his 2013 major label debut Kiss Land hasn’t exactly aged well, and Starboy was an overlong, frequently redundant affair with occasional flashes of innovation. But the latter album’s closing track, “I Feel It Coming,” feels like a major change of pace, and perhaps a premonition of The Weeknd’s future.

Like the previous single, the chart-topping title track from Starboy, “I Feel It Coming” is yet another collaboration with famed French house duo. While “Starboy” sounded a lot like the duo’s own “Doin’ It Right,” a collab with Animal Collective’s Panda Bear and a notable outlier on Random Access Memories, this song is more akin to the warm, nostalgic disco that dominated the rest of that album. Hell, the robots even use their trademark vocoders on their own voices this time! As unstoppable as the groove of “Can’t Feel My Face” is to this day, never has Abel sung over something that sounded so happy.

Fortunately, he seems up to the challenge of matching this energy. Normally, The Weeknd albums end on a dour note - even the bombastic “Angel” was profoundly melancholic. In one of his most effortless vocal performances to date, Abel shows that he is finally ready to commit to a serious relationship. And while the potent sexuality is still right there in the goddamn title, it comes across as a moment of real, unadulterated joy rather than simply going through the motions of tour life. The Weeknd has proven time and time again that he can switch up his sound and still come through with smash hits, and if “I Feel It Coming” is any indication, that’s not changing any time soon.

4. “Redbone” by Childish Gambino

Holy shit, have I been waiting for this. I’m not necessarily talking about “Redbone,” Childish Gambino’s greatest success to date, but rather that success in and of itself. Like so many people, I discovered Donald Glover’s hip hop project after enjoying him as Troy in NBC’s Community, one of my all-time favorite TV shows. But despite his knack for solid hooks, colorful instrumentals and outright hilarious bars, it always felt like he was close to breaking into the mainstream without ever getting there. Maybe it was the polarized critical response to Camp or the obtuse production of Because the Internet, but it was only with last year’s funk departure “Awaken, My Love!” that his music clicked more universally.

“Redbone” wasn’t that album’s lead single, but it was by far its most successful, charting for nearly a whole year and peaking just outside Billboard’s Top 10. Arguably, it’s the weirdest hit song we’ve had this year: weird enough that it spawned one of the year’s more creative memes. As a whole, the song maintains a rare balance of paranoia and sensuality, the former of which is felt instantly with the intro’s distant strings and gently thumping kicks. But any sense of dread is mitigated by the slap bass, glockenspiel and the generally lush atmosphere. With perhaps the exception of SZA, mainstream R&B in 2017 hasn’t sounded this organic and alluring, even with the inclusion of the crunchy guitar leads or the muted, creepy-as-fuck background vocals in the intro.

Amidst all the window-dressing, this is still undoubtedly Donald Glover’s song, and his vocal and lyrical contributions capture the same balance just as exquisitely. Many have pointed out that he doesn’t even sound much like himself on “Redbone,” rather emulating Macy Gray’s trademark rasp. Despite the obvious point of influence, it’s still one of the many vocal performances on “Awaken, My Love!” that oozes with color and personality. It doesn’t distract from the unsettling lyrics, though, which double down on Gambino’s oft-critiqued insecurities about relationships and racial identity, but through a more mature and knowing lens, with a chilling mantra of “stay woke.”

And while it didn’t have an impact on its placement on this list, the particular case of the song’s success is worth celebrating. “Redbone” first charted out of anticipation for the album, but it returned to the hit parade thanks to its masterful use in Jordan Peele’s excellent film Get Out. Then came the memes, where the song was sung by various characters and played from a range of different spaces. It had a distinctive sound that somehow suited it to both uses, thus making it Glover’s highest charting song. This is the rare case where a great song isn’t rejected for its idiosyncrasies, but instead rightfully embraced.

3. “Slide” by Calvin Harris feat. Frank Ocean and Migos

But then again, Childish Gambino wasn’t the only one finding long-overdue chart success this year. Obviously, I’m not referring to Calvin Harris or Migos - the former has been pumping out hits since the turn of the decade to diminishing returns, and the latter had a banner year in 2017, with their very good single “Bad and Boujee” topping the Hot 100 for three weeks. “Slide” was partially Frank Ocean’s affair, too. After last year’s excellent, understated Blonde seemingly rebuked any desire for conventional pop stardom, the R&B crooner and former Odd Future affiliate proved that he can still write a fantastic pop song that can stick with just about anyone.

What’s particularly interesting about Frank’s contributions to “Slide” is that they aren’t even far removed from the music on Blonde. He still favors a more low-key vocal delivery, and he still manages to draw compelling character portraits in his lyrics. This time, it’s about a one-night stand where the protagonist isn’t so much interested in the sex itself, but vicariously living their partner’s more opulent lifestyle, referencing jewelery and Picasso’s famous Garçon à la pipe painting. But there’s still an underlying feeling of emptiness, exemplified in the line “wrist on a wrist, a link of charms, yeah / laying, we’re still a link apart.”

Complicated emotional situations have always been a characteristic of Ocean’s lyricism, for which he sets the scene with details that frequently read as non-sequiturs. But what makes “Slide” particularly interesting is how everybody else around him is up to the same task. Quavo and Offset of Migos appear for two insanely catchy and energetic verses, but the content feels peripheral to the established theme of the song. But these guys are part of one of the most in-demand rap acts of the year, so for Frank’s character to be rubbing shoulders with them does more to establish the scene. “Slide” is also further evidence of Offset’s skillful, malleable flow, and if his recent joint album with 21 Savage is any indication, he has great potential as a solo artist.

But what about Calvin Harris, the main artist responsible for this song? “Slide” was the lead single for his excellent album Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 1, and served as a dramatic departure from the more conventional EDM he’d been producing for years. Sure, singles like “This Is What You Came For” and “How Deep Is Your Love” flirted with organic instrumentation and classic dance grooves, but the shimmering keys, palm-muted funk guitars, and the irresistible bassline add up to one of his best tracks to date. It’s a perfect summer song that provides an opulent backdrop for Frank and Migos, and it still sounds fantastic in the dead of winter.

2. “DNA.” by Kendrick Lamar

Don’t think I forgot about this one. Over the course of this year’s lists, I’ve already gone on multiple times about the impact of streaming on the year-end charts. All of this is especially true when it comes to “DNA.,” the first full track from DAMN. Despite receiving an incredible music video starring Don Cheadle, it was never released as a single. And considering the aggression on display, as well as the lack of a real hook, why would it be? Nevertheless, thanks to Kendrick Lamar’s staggering popularity on streaming services, it landed a respectable spot midway on the year-end Hot 100. It’s another landmark worth discussing, but more importantly, “DNA.” is just a goddamn incredible song.

Rather than just dissecting the individual components of the song, I’m going to do my best to explain “DNA.” in a more linear fashion. Kendrick breaks through the gate in full-force, once again accompanied by Mike Will’s hard-hitting blend of trap drums, warped synths and ominous guitar loops. The first half of the song can be boiled down to K-Dot asserting that he was born for his current status as a rap god, even comparing his own birth to the immaculate conception. He recalls all his struggles growing up, living in the projects of Compton and encountering all the “murder, conviction, burners, booster, burglars, ballers,” etc. the city had to offer, crossing everything off as effortlessly as one would do for a shopping list.

Then, “DNA.” nears its two-minute mark. After a dazzling extended verse packed with personal detail, a sample of sleazy Fox-News-correspondent-cum-sexual-harrasser Geraldo Rivera actively dismisses Kendrick’s self-justification. He claims that Kendrick exemplifies everything wrong with young black culture in an unabashed show of victim-blaming. Then another sample comes in: the countdown from Freedom 7’s takeoff in 1961. As this happens, Kendrick speeds up his flow, and the beat changes, leading into what might be one of the greatest musical moments of the decade.

At this point, the production becomes even more sparse and dissonant, built mainly on a Rick James sample and the thickest, most face-melting sub bass imaginable. K-Dot offers an intense, well-deserved rebuttal to the thinly-veiled bullshit his critics ever-so-gleefully dole out. He knows that his success was earned through blood, sweat and tears, not “sex, money, murder,” and proceeds to “[curve] all the fakes” and others who seek to undermine him or his message. In an age where Donald Trump and the GOP have been nearly given carte blanche to oppress whoever the hell they want on any given day, it’s so cathartic to hear some resistance to their rhetoric in our popular music, especially when it’s this stunningly well-crafted.

And, just like last time, before I unveil my pick for the best hit song of 2017, here are eight honorable mentions:

“XO Tour Llif3″ by Lil Uzi Vert: “XO Tour Llif3” marks the first time Uzi’s music truly connected with me, capturing both the hedonism and the mental trauma he experienced while on tour with The Weeknd atop a fittingly off-kilter beat. His vocals are among the most impassioned I’ve heard all year, making the decision to nudge this off the list in favor of SZA a particularly tough one.

“1-800-273-8255″ by Logic feat. Alessia Cara and Khalid: Speaking of mental trauma, Logic’s breakout hit exists to lend a hand to those dealing with suicidal feelings. It sees the rapper and guest Alessia Cara acting respectively as a caller and a receptionist for the titular suicide hotline. Top that off with dramatic string swells and Khalid’s potent outro, and you have a song whose impact can’t be undermined, even by the shouts of “who can relate?”

“Sign of the Times” by Harry Styles: This is undoubtedly the best solo single to come out of the 1D camp, a power ballad reminiscent of David Bowie’s best that nails the particular desire to escape that we’ve all felt at some point this year. Cut the runtime by about a minute and you’ve got the perfect template for what mainstream rock should sound like in years to come, rather than whatever commercial filler comes from Imagine Dragons.

“Mask Off” by Future: I wasn’t wild about Future’s decision to release two overlong albums in the span of a week, but both albums had their highlights, and “Mask Off” was one of them. The beautiful “Prison Song” sample is the closest thing to old school hip hop in the mainstream this year, and Future delivers a sticky hook and the sort of secretly personal lyrics that have become his forte.

“Black Beatles” by Rae Sremmurd feat. Gucci Mane: Mike Will Made It hit a stride of excellence between “Formation” and “DNA,” and this song was caught in the middle of that period, boasting a dark, pounding beat topped with alien synths that sounded like little else in the Hot 100. Rae Sremmurd and Gucci Mane don’t really do much different from the norm, but the hook has an insanely catchy melody, and I’ll take anything over “Swang” at this point.

“That’s What I Like” by Bruno Mars: Look, pretty much everybody was hopping onto the trap bandwagon this year, but Bruno Mars made the sound his own by incorporating more organic percussion and a classic soul chord progression. The same goes for the lyrics about “strawberry champagne on ice” and “everything 24 karats.” You know, because the album and its lead single were both called “24K Magic”...

“Love on the Brain” by Rihanna: It’s the final single from Rihanna’s great comeback album Anti, and while I still think “Kiss It Better” should have been a lot bigger than it was, this is a perfectly fine piece of retro soul. 2016 was the end of the Meghan Trainor era, so it was only fitting that we ushered the new year in with what a song of hers might sound like if it were any good.

“Green Light” by Lorde: This didn’t make the year end Hot 100, so by my own arbitrary rules, I can’t formally include it, so I’ll just include it in the honorable mentions out of spite. How the fuck was this not a hit?

And now, for what I consider to be the best hit song of 2017:

1. “Praying” by Kesha

When I wrote my entry on the loathsome waste of space known as Kodak Black, I introduced it by addressing that content doesn’t exist without context. Sure, “Tunnel Vision” is a thoroughly unpleasant listening experience, but what makes it all the more abhorrent is how he lackadaisically prods at the very real allegations against him, all the while taunting those who want to see him lose. While that song is a very unfortunate reminder that rape culture is very much a real thing, it’s at least comforting to see a song from the other side of the spectrum.

Of the few criticisms I’ve seen of Kesha’s triumphant comeback single “Praying,” the only one that comes close to holding any water is if the song would hit nearly as hard if the details of the singer’s abuse at the hands of human shitstain producer Dr. Luke weren’t so well publicized. But for me, a song of this caliber can’t really be performed - let alone written - without this kind of experience. Over somber piano chords, Kesha recounts the feelings of uselessness and trickery she felt under Luke’s wing, only to overcome these feelings and make herself stronger as the haunting mellotron swells behind her. Her message is made all the more stark in the line “I hope you find your peace fallin’ on your knees.”

If this were all “Praying” was, I’d still adore it for its bold sincerity, but what certifies this song as the best of the year is the way the song builds. About halfway through the second verse, Kesha’s voice leaps an octave, and her tone shifts from vulnerable to utterly strident. Gradually, strings, backing vocals, pounding drums and horns enter the fold, giving way to the deeply moving second repeat of the chorus. And then the bridge happens, and after her crushing conclusion that “some things only God can forgive,” she lets out the note heard around the world. Though Kesha’s brand was established on semi-satirical autotune pop, it’s this moment that proves all her detractors horribly wrong in their assertion that she had “no talent.”

And while the high note is remarkable in and of its self, its potency is matched by the very end of the song, where the music fades away. As Kesha delivers her final lines, you can hear her crying as she steps away from the microphone. This moment is one of the rawest concentrations of lived-in emotion I’ve heard in the mainstream in years, and all the more evidence that this is real. Some people might call “Praying” the best Adele song that she never sang, but this is Kesha’s story. Unfortunately, it’s the story of far too many women in our society as well, but as more and more powerful men are being exposed and cancelled for their unacceptable treatment of women, this song couldn’t exist at a better time.

Thank you for reading! I’m considering writing about my favorite albums of the year, so if you’d like to see something like that, please let me know!

[tourmaline147]

If You Must

By Tourmaline147

Summary-

Neil’s whole world went up in flames the minute he burned his mother’s dead body. Mary prepared him for almost every possible scenario, except this one. Now he’s stuck in the middle of California trying to restart his life.

Andrew’s world had been dark long before Neil Josten came into town. He’s been barely living the past few years but he was working on that.

Together these two strangers who only knew how to survive take on a new challenge: learning to live.

*** Featuring the other foxes, the bad guys, copious amounts of music, and, hopefully, happiness.

*** Basically a high school au with music. Enjoy.

read on ao3 here

CHAPTER 1- FRESHMAN YEAR- SUMMER

Chapter Warnings: mentioned character death (Mary, shocking I know), non-consensual drugging, brief mention of throwing up, implied/referenced rape/non-con, intrusive thoughts, homophobic language (Seth), mentions of Drake, Nathan, and abuse.

If you must mourn

***

When I was a child I’d sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

***

In his fourteen years on the earth, Andrew Minyard had seen more than most people three times his age. After having been thrown from foster home to foster home, he had developed a sort of 6th sense for suspicious behavior. So, he liked to think he knew something strange when he saw it. And as he stared down at the mousy boy standing in the middle of the foyer he knew that this Neil Josten most definitely fit that word to a tee.

There was something that was just off about him. He wasn’t sure what tipped him off; it could have been his bad dye job, or his bland eyes, or the fact that he was clinging to his duffle bag like it contained his only supply of oxygen. These things alone were not enough to warrant suspicion; a lot of strange characters came to the foster home on Marbury and Fourth.

However, the two men that brought the kid into the building were unlike any of the other social workers Andrew had ever seen. Their suits were too nice and much too expensive. They also gave off a vibe of authority, something that made Andrew’s skin crawl even from his perch on the stairs overlooking the entryway.

It also didn’t help the new kid that Andrew was a naturally suspicious person.

Not that Andrew could afford not to be.

The suits had flanked Josten’s side since they had arrived and neither they nor Josten had said anything aside for their names since they had entered. Currently, they were waiting to be called into Madera’s office. They didn’t even seem to be bothered by the fact that she had left them standing there for almost half an hour. (Another very strange thing, honestly. Most people who came in wouldn’t stand to kept waiting that long. They must be really desperate to have Josten admitted there.)

The suits kept their bored stares trained on the “artistic” paintings on the walls, their thoughts and feelings masked by their impassive expressions. Josten’s face was also emotionless and his eyes were distant. The only indication that he was alive was his near constant fidgeting, and the periodical tightening of his grip on his bag. They stayed out there until Madera came out to greet them and then lead them into her office.

Everything must have been in order not long after she had shut the door, Madera was reopening it and leading them out of the room. Andrew turned and walked up the stairs before Madera could catch him spying.

He turned down the hall to where half of the bedrooms on that floor were located and leaned back against the wall between two of the doors. He waited casually in the hall for Madera to call them all down as she always did when there was a new kid.

And true to her predictable, predictable form, she called them down not a minute later. The doors of some of the rooms exploded open, banging back against the wall due to its inhabitant’s excitement and energy. He watched some of the younger kids perk up and race down the hall and stairs to meet the new kid, excited to see a new face. The older residents were more reluctant to leave their rooms, having seen too many foster kids pass through the halls to be impressed by yet another one. Andrew peeled himself off the wall and filed behind the last, straggling residents of the Marbury-and-Fourth hell.

They lined up to see the Josten, and Andrew found that, even up close, he was still unimpressed. Josten was small and stood with his head ducked and back hunched. By doing that he managed to make himself look almost impossibly smaller. It was like he was trying to make himself seem weak, like he was not a threat. Like he wanted to be invisible.

Andrew could understand the sentiment. Going through all of the seven circles of hell on earth tended to make someone want to be left alone. The only difference, really, was the method that they used to achieve their goal. Instead of hiding, Andrew opted for acting as imposing and threatening as possible, so that people would keep their distance. He wasn’t going to roll over and let people walk over him.

Not anymore.

But, as he studied Josten a little longer, he thought maybe the new kid wasn’t going to let that happen either. Though he wasn’t moving much, he sure as fuck wasn’t catatonic. his fingers never kept still, they were constantly fiddling with the straps of his bag, weaving and looping around the strap rapidly.

Andrew also didn’t miss the way Josten’s unimpressive eyes were sharp underneath the dull brown, the way his eyes were secretly studying them all even underneath his shitty fringe.

And really, what was up with that truly unflattering haircut? The suits got paid well enough to drop $500 on a suit but they couldn’t afford to get the pathetic kid a haircut?

Though, the longer he studied the suits and their unveiled disapproval of Josten’s attire, the more he thought Josten was more likely the one who refused a makeover. The clothes he wore were much too old to have just been given to him. Even if he had been gotten clothes from a thrift shop, they would have likely been in better condition than the clothes he was wearing right now. And, now that he thought about it, the hair did fairly well at hiding Josten’s identity from the people around him.

He looked dull enough and acted small enough to pass by without notice. He didn’t want to be identified. It was actually pretty clever.

It was just too bad that Josten’s pathetic attempts to remain unseen were the things that got him on Andrew’s radar in the first place.

Sucks to suck, asswipe.

Madera, on the other hand, payed no attention to the newcomer’s strange antics, clearly already thinking about all the other work she had to do.

“Alright, kids.” Madera rubbed her face, betraying her exhaustion “this is the new kid, Neil. Say hi Neil” she yawned, gesturing vaguely in his direction. Neil didn’t wave until a minute later but she was already moving on.

“Seth, he’s rooming with you since you’ve got a spare bunk” this last part she said to the tall, dark haired athlete on Andrew’s far right. He looked like he was about protest, but Madera was already beyond caring, running her hands through her greying hair as she turned and made her way back to her office. It was all quiet even as the door slammed closed, causing the new kid to flinch.

Interesting.

Seth was fuming but he complied, waving a blunt follow-me gesture to Neil as he began to head up the stairs. Neil followed, pulling his bag impossibly closer to his chest as he hurried up the stairs behind him. The other kids went their own ways while Andrew and his smaller roommate, Leroy, who had stowed himself to his left followed behind Seth and Neil.

Seth and Neil came to a stop when they arrived at the room beside the one that Leroy and Andrew shared. Seth leaned forward and opened the door revealing his- now his and Josten’s- room. He led the way in paying no mind to the prying eyes of Leroy and Andrew in the hallway.

Seth stopped in front of the bunkbed. “I already have top bunk so you’re going to just take the bottom one.”

Josten simply nodded and sat on the edge of the bed and readjusted his hold on his bag. He flexed his fingers absently to keep them from cramping, eyes already distant. He never fully let go of the bag, though.

Leroy inched into the room while Andrew leaned against the doorframe. When Seth saw Leroy enter, he waved him in with a sigh and Leroy’s face lit up with excitement as he took up the place on the floor in front of Neil and stared at him expectantly.

Leroy was a young kid, not one of the youngest at Marbury, but nowhere near the oldest. He always had a friendly smile and he was the only one that never complained about having to share a room with Andrew, despite the fact that he was incredibly intimidated by the older kid.

Leroy always had too much enthusiasm- something Andrew didn’t understand how anyone could possess, especially someone who had been stuck in the system. The only thing that seemed to ever drag him down was boredom. Andrew could relate. And like Andrew, Leroy had found the same reprieve from their summer boredom: Josten. Being the center of attention to a nine year old was not something to envy. Andrew might have felt bad for the new kid, if he wasn’t also curious to see what Leroy could pry out of him.

Leroy leg bobbed up and down restlessly as he waited for Josten to say something. When he remained silent, he took it upon himself to make the first move.

“What’s your last name?”

Josten blinked and came back to earth. The look he gave Leroy was casual, but Andrew could see the sharp appraising look hidden under what Andrew could now see under closer inspection were obviously fake lenses. This made it even clearer that Josten was hiding something. It made the hackles on the back of Andrew’s neck rise and he could feel tension twisting up his spine.

“Josten,” he replied smoothly. More like Lied smoothly.

Leroy believed it anyway. That made him perk up even more and lean forward excitedly.

“Why are you here? Do you still have parents? Because we haven’t seen you here before.”

“My mom’s an addict. She’s in rehab right know. I’ll probably be back with her soon,” Neil replied.

Andrew couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his throat at that blatant lie. Like he hadn’t seen Josten checking the place for exits and assessing the lineup of residents for risks since the moment he walked in. As if he couldn’t see the way Neil’s eyes darted around cataloguing exits. As if he couldn’t see the way Josten was poised and prepared make a shot for the exit at the first available opportunity.

A runner, he surmised. Finally he found the word. He rolled the word around in his mind. Runner. It fit. He looked back at him and knew it was correct.

And, more than that, he was alone.

Andrew knew what someone looked like when they had no one. When they were used to keeping themselves alive. And Neil was that picture, personified. He went from place to place, disappearing and reappearing like a ghost.

At his noise, Neil’s eyes turned sharply to him, narrowing almost imperceptibly. Interesting. It seemed that the little ghost was more alive than he let on.

“Yes?” he asked. The challenge so subtle that if he hadn’t been paying attention he might not have noticed it. He felt the pleasant bubbling of interest in his stomach. Seemed that there was more to the kid than a weak spine and cowered stance.

Leroy became visibly tense when he realized who Neil was talking to.

Andrew ignored it and locked eyes with Neil.

“Nothing,” he replied lightly, feigning nonchalance.

Seth rolled his eyes and gestured for Neil to follow him. “I don’t have time for your wordless shit today, Minyard. Neil, Leroy come on. Let’s get this done.”

Leroy followed him eagerly out the door, Neil not far behind him. He didn’t take off his bag and store it in the room, instead opting to readjust the strap over his shoulder so he could carry the bag with him easily throughout the rest of the house tour. Whatever was in that bag was obviously important and something he was obviously not willing to let it out of his sight.

Andrew’s fingers itched to go digging through it, to pull out his secrets. He had learned a lot since he had taken little raven Kevin under his wing. There was more than one type of trauma people could endure. And as he watched Josten with his duffle and knew that this wasn’t just another kid with the typical sob story. Nobody carried that much baggage and wasn’t a threat.

Ha.

Baggage.

As Neil passed by Andrew on his way through the door he pointedly tugged his bag closer and gave Andrew a deadly glare before continuing after Seth and Leroy, who was busy chattering away.

Dramatic much.

But as he watched Neil walk away, he felt it confirm of his suspicions. There way definitely something up with Neil and Andrew was definitely going to find out what it was. Starting with that duffle bag.

He smiled internally. This was going to be fun.

***

Neil had always considered himself a man of many words. He knew thousands of words in half a dozen languages. Though he hadn’t always been able to use them, he always was able to satisfy himself by being able to articulate his thoughts with the appropriate word or phrase. When the world so often was spinning out of control, it was nice to be able to describe it. It was grounding, in a way.

Yet despite his extensive knowledge of the English language, as well as a few others, he couldn’t seem to find a single word out there that he could use to describe Andrew Minyard.

Oh, wait. Never mind, he could.

Asshole.

Yes. He thought to himself. That word seemed to fit the surly blond kid perfectly.

He tried to act intimidating. He was able to pull it off to an extent. It was impressive really, considering his short stature. And holy shit that kid was small. He was so small he was even shorter than Neil. How old was this kid, like twelve or something?

Neil had only been at this weird house thing a little over a week and the smaller guy was really starting to piss him off. Immensely. He could feel his eyes on him throughout the day, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep himself in check. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he couldn’t afford to give himself a bad reputation.

After- everything that happened- he had been trying to keep a low profile, slide under the radar. Like he had with his mother. Even though he didn’t really need to anymore. He didn’t need to run anymore.

His father was in jail.

His mother was dead.

She is dead. He repeated firmly. She’s dead.

He had to keep reminding himself she was dead. He chastised himself for not having it down by now. She would have beaten him if she had been alive.

But she wasn’t.

She’s dead. D.E.A.D.

He used to spend almost every moment with her by his side and now her absence was achingly obvious.

He found he needed to remind himself constantly. He repeated it to himself like a mantra. Like one of the ones his mother used to have him repeat when he had to learn information about their new identities.

“Remember, Abram. Your name is Alex. You are thirteen. You were born in Luxembourg. Your parents are divorced. Have been for three years. My name is now Lucy.” She never once took her eyes off the road. “Repeat it back to me.”

He remembered fidgeting in his seat but had no hesitation in speaking, almost as if the lies were a reflex. “Alex, 13, Luxembourg, divorced three years, Lucy-”

“Again.”

“Alex, 13-”

He shook his head, dragging himself from his memories. He clawed at his jeans, trying to ground himself.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

She was dead and nothing was the same.

So much had changed that it felt as though months had passed instead of the mere weeks. The memories of her death and the aftermath were choppy and unclear. But he remembered.

He doubted that he would ever be able to forget.

He remembered it hadn’t taken long for Stewart and later Ichirou to get ahold of him after his mother died.

He remembered meeting with the Moriyama head.

He remembered the FBI.

He remembered the hot California sun as it beat down on him. He remembered hearing about California in the movies and it was never portrayed as hot as this. The temperature rose with every mile south.

The heat wasn’t like it was when he had been on the east coast. On the east coast the heat was clingy and clammy and cloying with humidity. It was a place where the line between skin, sweat, and heat was constantly unclear. Where you spent the day sticky with sweat and unable to escape it except when you managed to sneak into one of the air-conditioned stores and buildings that lined the streets. He remembered doing that with his mother when they used to live in Baltimore.

California was nothing like that. It was hot, but in a way that he imagined an oven would be hot. He could feel the sun baking him. Maybe that was why the people were always sun tanning in the movies. Bake and flip over once golden brown and all that. But the heat wasn’t inescapable like it was on the other side of the country; he was able to find respite under trees, where the heat was distant, abstract even, around him. He didn’t know heat was like this. He wanted to ask Mary which she preferred but he couldn’t because she was gone.

She was gone, gone, gone.

Stop. Don’t think about that.

Besides she now knew a whole new level of heat, having been engulfed by the flames-

Stop. Stop thinking about it. He tore his thoughts from her and back to the present, to his surroundings, to anything that distract him from his past.

But still, California was much hotter than he had expected it to be. California as a whole was different. It wasn’t really like he expected it to be at all. The beaches were cold but everywhere else was warm. And hot. So, so hot. There weren’t lush forests around every turn or snowy mountains or endless oceans. Instead there were miles and miles of rolling hills of dying shrubs and dusty mountains, dried rivers and abandoned cars. It looked like death, and not just because he had buried his mother there.

But maybe he was being unfair. Maybe he thought it was hot because he had spent several consecutive days making is way away from the California coast and into the interior on his way to Arizona.

He hoped Arizona wouldn’t be as hot (it was a futile, useless hope to have; no one had bothered to paint Arizona as anything less than Satan’s abandoned hell.

(Was there any water in Arizona? ((He knew there had to be some, logically, but still he wondered.) He would probably die of dehydration and his body would shrivel up until every drop of water had left him body and the sun could ignite his body into flames (like mother, like son))).

He didn’t know how long he had been walking.

That was a lie. He could remember every day after his mother died with painstaking clarity.

But he had always been good at lying.

It had only been a few days after his mother’s death and his father subsequent arrest before a black sedan pulled up next to him as he trekked down the highway. The elite car parked up ahead of him and its tinted windows rolled down to reveal Moriyama gang members. They all had slicked back hair, refined suits and expensive sunglasses. When they shuffled out of the car to usher him in, not a speck of dust deigned to mar their perfectly pressed suits. He marveled at those tailored cuffs and barely noticed their firm hands pushing him into the car, nor their bodies climbing in beside him before they slammed the door shut.

He felt almost resigned as he sat there. He knew it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t nearly as good at covering his tracks as his mother was. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight. The heat had drained his energy and he was so, so tired. At least there was air conditioning. Maybe he would die in relative comfort.

The ride to the isolated location was quiet, aside from the muffled scream of his self-preservation instincts through the haze of his exhaustion. The desert was still as he was ushered to a lone car parked in the middle of the California desert. He slid across the leather seat opposite the newly appointed head of the Moriyama gang- Ichirou Moriyama.

On the run he and his mother had heard whispers about Ichirou’s rise to power. It hadn’t taken long for him to take the helm of the company after his father’s untimely death. He was very good at taking initiative. Therefore, it was no surprise when he spoke first.

“Your father, as I’m sure you know, heads the Baltimore division of my business. You are aware of this, correct?”

Neil could only nod dumbly. His mother had informed him of everything. She didn’t see any benefit in him running around blind. Ignorance got people killed.

“After my father’s death, I decided to take it upon myself to reshape the company to fit my vision. It is a fairly simple plan, but it involves a lot of work,” He lifted his hands, inspection his manicure for any imperfections, “my plans for the business are to take what my father created and modifying it so that it fits with this century. But before I can begin implementing my ideas, I need to solidify and strength the structure of this organization. This, of course, means tying up loose ends. For example, cutting off areas that are leeching our resources and hemorrhaging funds very much needed for the business. I need the company to run smoothly. And I can’t have anything standing in my way. Do make myself clear?”

Neil nodded again, throat dry.

“Your father,” Ichirou continued, carelessly inspecting his nails, “is one of those loose ends.”

Neil could almost swear his heart stopped at that moment, but Ichirou plodded on, heedless or just uncaring of Neil’s sudden inability to breathe. His nails were of much more interest to him.

Though, in all fairness, they were impeccable.

“That’s where you come in,” he leveled his gaze at Neil. Neil tried to swallow but realized it was very difficult to do so when your throat was as dry as the dust outside the car.

“Your father has spent the last four years chasing you and your mother across the globe after she stole from his private funds and fled. He has wasted countless resources, time, and man power in pursuit of his petty revenge.

“Now I could just hand you over to him and have him get rid of you, putting an end to this foolishness once and for all. And sure, doing that would work, but for how long is unclear. I don’t know if he would fall victim to his desires again. And by giving him you, it would give the appearance that I approve of this sort of behavior. Something that I. Do. Not.

“My father was much too lenient with him due to their long-standing partnership. I, however, will not put up with it. Removing you father, though, will not be sufficient. He was able to form a very loyal inner circle. I would need to remove his most right hand partners, those whose loyalties lie with him and not the Moriyamas. That behavior is something that is just not acceptable. It is the whole reason that we remove our branches’ children from their care. I do not need people mistaking where their loyalties should lie. This is where you come in.

“I have no quarrel with you or your mother. Your mother came from a prestigious family- one that has strong ties with my own. Though she went against my family, she is dead so she has paid her due. You were but a child when she took you, but you are now old enough to show where your loyalties lie.

“I want you to testify against your father and his partners. This will bring down his control and allow me to replace his branch with people I feel are better suited for the job. People I trust. You will not say anything about the Moriyamas. From there you will be able to live your life in any way you so wish. We will be keeping tabs on you, of course” he leaned back to look at Neil, “and some day we will find a way to incorporate you into the business. Minimal involvement, but we will discuss that much later. Thoughts?”

Neil was desperately trying to regain his ability to speak, which he found was impeded yet again, though this time due to disbelief rather than fear.

“Yes” he replied, vehemently. “I will.”

“And you will not mention the Moriyamas?”

“I have no reason to. My issue lies with my father, not you. As long as he and his people leave me alone I would be happy to do anything for you.”

“Then it is settled.” He snapped his fingers and there was movement around him as the other gangsters opened the doors.

He barely remembered much after that. It was all a confusing haze. The firm grasp of Ichirou’s handshake. The blur of the road, obscured by the dust kicked up by the tires. The hot plastic of the payphone against his hands as he called the FBI number written on the back of some faded business card.

The next days were a high-speed mess of FBI meetings, interviews, personal statements, and recording devices shoved in his face. It was all so overwhelming and confusing, made even more so by the large time gaps that were appearing in his memory. At times he lost a few minutes, other times hours.

He remembered them sitting him down at a cold metal table in one of the interview rooms. They were telling him about the witness protection program was, and what it entailed, and how long he could expect to be there. He found himself speaking before he even knew he opened his mouth.

“No.”

And just like that, it all stopped. Everything came to a grinding halt. The haze around his mind was lifted and he could see. For the first time in days he could finally breathe again.

“What did you say?”

“I said no,” he said, confidence building with every word. “I don’t want to be a part of the witness protection program. It would be like a prison. I haven’t done anything to deserve that” he had but they didn’t need to know what he and his mother had done to stay alive.

He swallowed and continued “Everything I have done I have done to stay alive. I’m not going to throw away everything I’ve done, everything my mother has done, just to end up there. I’m not trading one set of chains for another.”

They looked like they were going to protest but Nathaniel fixed them with such a look that all their arguments died in their throat. He knew it was the same look his father had. Maybe they were scared that they saw that man in the small boy in front of them. Maybe they were afraid. Maybe they should be. Frankly, Neil found he was too tired to care.

They scurried out of the room and after an indeterminate amount of time they came back, clearly unhappy, but with new sets of paperwork. They told him that he had to choose what name he wanted, and to make it good, because he couldn’t run anymore. Nathaniel stared at the forms for a long while, before finally picking up the pen and writing down the name on the last, unused passport he had from his time with his mother.

Neil Josten.

He hesitated a moment, overwhelmed by the thought of her, before adding to it.

Neil Abram Josten.

That name sounded right. It sounded like his own name. The one he was meant to have.

He filled out the rest of the forms, barely able to bring himself to look at the name again, the pain in his throat and chest so overwhelming. It wasn’t much longer until the forms were whisked away and the suits were gone, leaving him standing in the halls of Maybury. Trying to start again.

And he was trying. He had toned down his attitude because it would only draw attention. He had already learned to tamper down his temper over the years on the run, and he couldn’t afford to lose that self-control now. He couldn’t afford to screw up his life, especially when he couldn’t change his identity. Every decision he made would come back to him.  

So he made it work. It was easy to just smile and listen to Leroy’s chatter and to throw out a few tidbits to keep him going. It was even easier to be around Seth; the older boy didn’t even acknowledge that he existed most of the time. Instead Seth spent most of his time at work or sneaking out the window with a girl that Neil could always identify by the flash of blond hair he saw before she dropped from the window.

But Andrew- that prick- would not leave him alone. Sure, he never did anything outright to convey his distrust, but Neil knew Andrew was suspicious, just like he knew Andrew knew he knew that Andrew was suspicious of him. And, in turn, Neil couldn’t be in the Marbury house without being suspicious of Andrews every action and move.

So, as of now, they were at a sort of draw, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. And Neil knew he wouldn’t be the first one. He had to keep way from any confrontation, despite how much he yearned for it. So he was stuck waiting for Andrew to strike.

But, for weeks, Andrew did nothing, and honestly Neil was starting to go out of his mind and his tongue itched to say something, his father’s temper threatening to rise from the ashes like a phoenix and burn his opponent. But every time he was about to say something, his mother came to mind and her death and the fact that he had a new start and the he couldn’t mess it up. Not after all the chances he had been give.

So every time Andrew got on his nerves he forced himself to count in every language he knew until his anger lessened to a simmer.

He had gotten very good at counting in several languages.

But with every counted second, Andrew didn’t appear any closer to making a move. He knew Andrew was watching him, sure. He could feel his eyes on him throughout the day. His gaze was intense much like the rest of him and Neil couldn’t help but notice that almost everyone in the home was intimidated by him. Even Leroy, Andrew’s roommate and one of the most easygoing people he had ever met, seemed to be on edge around him.

Neil had taken to carrying his bag around with him. He worried that if he left it alone, even for a moment, that Andrew would come in and take it. Once it had been clear to everyone in the house that Neil wasn’t going to let the bag out of his sight, he expected Andrew to resort to unsavory tactics to sate his curiosity.

He expected Andrew to use the element of surprise to take the bag, but he should have expected Andrew wouldn’t be so predictable. He never came in when he was vulnerable. He never barged in when he went to the bathroom and never came into the room at night. It surprised him but it was undeniably true. He knew that for sure.

He could always tell when someone entered or exited the room, but so far it had only ever been Seth who came and left the room at night, in order to see his girlfriend. Even said girlfriend never came in, instead opting to stand outside below their window or climb up the adjacent tree and make the most atrocious bird calls Neil had ever heard in his life.

At first he though the reason Andrew stayed away at night was because of Andrew’s long-standing animosity with Seth. Even at meals the two would barely even look in the direction of the other.

But with Seth gone so often, he wasn’t sure why Andrew never came in. There was no doubt in his mind that Andrew knew of Seth’s nightly escapades; he lived next door and had been living at Marbury much longer than Neil had (and again, the bird noises. Who did they think they were fooling?).

It was all very strange; it seemed that there was more than just Seth and Andrew’s longstanding antagonistic relationship barring Andrew from the room.

Maybe Andrew stayed away from the room because it was a territorial thing, but this didn’t relieve any tension he felt. Andrew could just be trying to lull him into a false sense of security and be waiting for Neil to let his guard down and then steal the bag. For this reason, he slept with his bag between his back and the wall, body tense and ready to fight at any moment.

It was no surprise, therefore that Neil’s vigilance was slowly wearing down. It had been more than a couple weeks since he first came arrived, and his focus was already beginning to deteriorate.

Not to mention, as effective as the bag was for constant travel, it was rather cumbersome for daily use. He still couldn’t quite find a way to store the bag during his morning runs, so he carried it with him. He liked to think it was good preparation for if he needed to run again, but he even that lie was becoming less believable by the day.

He trudged up the stairs to his room and he came to a stop outside the door. His hands hovered over the door handle eyes dropping to the floor. There was a light glowing beneath it. It was hard to notice since it was day time, but Neil had become skilled in detecting disturbances. He breathed in and prepared himself to catch Andrew in the act. He knew that that bastard had been planning something. He was just surprised he had been so careless. He was almost disappointed, really.

He clasped his hands firmly around the handle, and pushed it down and eased the door open. He let go of the handle and let the door swing open the rest of the way.

The person sitting in the chair was decidedly not Andrew. Very far from it, in fact. He had dark brown hair that was styled on top of his head so that it probably gave him an extra inch or two. Even though he was sitting, Neil could tell the boy was tall.

His short sleeve t-shirt sleeves were rolled up and he had turned the fan on to cool himself down. Neil noted the dark marks on the other’s inner arm. Track marks. He was more familiar than many other people his age of what they looked like, having stayed in shelters, abandoned buildings, and on the streets in some of the larger cities where he and his mother had stayed.

The other boy hadn’t noticed Neil’s entrance, too caught up in bopping his head along with the music coming out of his headphones. He was leaning back in the chair at Seth’s desk tapping out the rhythm in the tabletop. His eyes flicked in Neil’s direction a moment before he turned to face him, eyes going wide as he almost lost his balance.

He tugged off his headphones and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Holy shit man. You’re quite. I didn’t even hear you come in. you must be Seth’s new roommate. I’m Matt.

Matt. Neil had heard Seth mention that name before; he was always stopping by to give Seth a ride places because his car was always breaking down.

Neil was stunned at the genuine geniality in his voice and took the large hand offered to him.

“Yeah. I’m Neil. Are you the guy who’s always driving Seth places?”

He chuckled at that and nodded. “Guy’s car’s a piece of shit.”

Neil nodded and released Matt’s hand and then walked over to his bunk and sat down on it, never taking his eyes off of Matt. Matt retook his seat, staring at Neil curiously. They sat there a moment before Matt began speaking again.

“So, how old are you?”

“Going to be a freshman.”

Matt gave him a rueful smile. “Sucks, man. Freshman year’s rough. I’m a sophomore.”

Neil raised an eyebrow and looked Matt up and down skeptically.

Matt laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. I get that a lot. It’s the height.” he lifted his hand up to his head as if he were comparing their heights.

Neil found himself relax a bit around Matt. He didn’t seem nearly as volatile as Seth or half as conniving as Andrew. He gave the impression that he was just a generally friendly person. It was nice.

“So, how did you meet Seth?” Neil knew that Seth was going into his senior year in the fall. “Sports?”

Matt gave a small huff, running his fingers through his hair. “Well, yeah. But we met at Wymack’s first.”

The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. Matt seemed to get as much before he continued on.

“Wymack works with at risk kids in the community. The disenfranchised youth and all that. Most of the kids are from broken homes or are drug addicts.” He lifted his inner arm to Neil. “I know you noticed it. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t. I’ve embraced it already. Wymack helped me to do that. He’s really there for us. He helps us do something productive. He’s really into the arts and a lot of us are too. Being at his place gives us the space to practice or do whatever. It’s nice, especially because all of us don’t have that sort of safe space to do that.

“He meets a lot of kids, but not many hang around. Right now there’s only a few of us that do. He’s a good guy. And a really good person.” He scanned looked at Neil a moment before adding, “I think you’d like him.”

Neil doubted it. He hardly suspected that there could ever be such a thing as a nice adult, one that cared as much as Matt made it seem. It had to be impossible. But the fact that both Seth and Matt seemed to like him did something in his favor; getting on Seth’s good side was a miracle in itself. There were people he tolerated and then there were people he hated; there was rarely anything else. But before he could say anything, Seth blew into the room, tossing his stuff to the side.

“You ready to go?” he asked Matt, not even bothering to acknowledge Neil’s presence.

Matt stood, nodding. “I was thinking that we should bring Neil to Wymack’s with us. It’s about time for him to meet him.”

Seth didn’t look entirely thrilled at the prospect, and shrugged begrudgingly. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But,” he pointed at Matt, “we’re not bringing the monster.”

Matt grimaced, but, as he turned back to look at Neil, enthusiasm seeped back into his expression.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to. I have-”

“Come on Neil. It’ll be fun. Free food.” He dangled the prospect out there like it was an impossible offer to turn down. “You get to meet Abby, too.”

Neil didn’t have the heart to turn him down. He picked up his bag and followed him out the door. He beamed at Neil and then turned to lead the way down the stairs. They made their way down to Matt’s truck. When the got there Matt unlocked the doors and they climbed on in.

He fiddled with his seatbelt and looked over at Seth who was sitting in the passenger seat, not even bothering to put on his seatbelt. “I thought you had a car.”

Matt scoffed and Neil could see even in the rearview mirror that Matt was holding back his laughter. “If you could call that piece of shit a car.”

“I don’t want to hear you dissing my ride.” Seth lashed out, crossing his arms as he sunk lower into his seat.

“Dude something goes wrong with it like every three months.”

“Shut up.”

Matt started the car and began driving.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up to a closed store front. They climbed out of the truck (Neil had to do a bit more climbing that the other two) and then closed the doors behind them. Matt sidled up beside Neil and pointed above the closed storefront. “Wymack lives up there. Seth do you know who’s going to be there tonight?”

“I think everyone. The monster’s supposed to show, but I’m holding out for a tragic car crash on the way over.”

Matt frowned but he didn’t say anything. “And Aaron?”

“Bastard’s back from fucking rehab. Nicky wouldn’t fucking shut up about it all week.”

“Why you two spend so much time around each other, I don’t know.” He said shaking his head and Neil filed the information away for later. Not so much the fact that someone else didn’t get along with Seth, that was honestly far from surprising, but the names of the other people were interesting to hear about.

Matt dropped the conversation and just walked over to the side of the building. There was a staircase that lead to the second floor. He immediately led the way up the steps until they reached a green door. Matt leaned close to the shiny bronze numbers and fixed up his hair in the reflection. Seth snorted. Matt ignored him. Instead Matt pulled out his key ring and sifted through the keys until he came across the one he was looking for. He slotted the key in the lock and unlocked the door, letting them all in.

The apartment was crammed and cluttered, the walkway was plastered with pictures and art and newspaper clippings that made their way down the hall. There were small side tables stacked with stacks of magazines and newspapers making the cramped hallway even narrower. The hall ended by splitting to three prongs, each leading to a different room. One lead to the kitchen, the other to a closed door, and the last to he assumed was the living area.

Matt didn’t hesitate to walk into the living room. It was a spacious living area that, like the hallway, was cluttered around the edges, but relatively clear in the middle, aside from several teens lounging on the furniture.

There was a young, dark haired teed reading out of a thick music theory tome in his hands as he stretched out across the couch, his left hand in a black hand brace. There were also three girls sitting around the couch. At the sound of them entering all the girls turned and looked over.

The blond girl looked vaguely familiar and he was easily able to recognize her from the times he had seen her outside the window of his and Seth’s room. She had long hair that looked both effortless and also like there wasn’t a single hair where she didn’t want it to be. She had a haughty, yet appraising look in her eyes, betraying the intelligence she was trying to conceal. The other two girls were ones he had never seen before. One had short dark hair and skin who gave off the air of a powerful yet merciful ruler. She gave the impression of someone who would be brutally honest, but not unnecessarily cruel. He could tell she was someone who could get anything she needed to get done, done. The last girl possessed a sweet disposition, what with her pastel hair, pale skirt, and delicate cross jewelry. But he could sense something else about her, like a shark lurking beneath the surface of tranquil waters. There was something off about her, a fact that was made apparent by the fact that she was somehow qualified to be one of the wayfaring kids under Wymack’s guidance.

The blond girl stood up and breezed by Seth, giving Matt a quick hug, before approaching Neil. Her gaze swept up and down the length of his body, and she didn’t bother to hold back her look of distasted at the state of his clothing. However, she appeared much more approving when she looked at his face. In fact she seemed almost pleased. Figures, people’s faces are usually better to look at than their clothes.

Though maybe he should so something to his appearance if it grabbed so much attention.

Or maybe he didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t have to run anymore. He was pulled from his train of thought when she began speaking.

“My name’s Allison, and you are?” She held out her hand to him, all casual ease and confidence.

“Uh, Neil.” He took her hand hesitantly.

She ignored any discomfort he showed and plowed on. “Interesting. Grade?”

“Uh, freshman. In the fall.”

She made a small noise of distaste but smothered it quickly.

“Sophomore. And over there,” she gestured with the hand that wasn’t still occupied with his own, “are Dan and Renee.”

Dan stood up and walked over and held out her hand. Neil pulled his out of Allison’s and shook Dan’s. Her face lit up brightly, putting Neil at ease. Her handshake was much shorter than Allison’s had been. He didn’t know what that was about, though he could guess if the way she kept glancing over at Seth while she did it was any indication. His comfortable ease quickly vanished when Renee came over and waved. Something about her seemed off, her innocent appearance be damned. Flowing fabrics and lace didn’t do much to conceal daggers. He didn’t know how Wymack found her

A man walked into the room and Neil could only assume it was Wymack. He was carrying a stack of magazines and a hand towel and barely glanced at them as he walked in. “You couldn’t fucking knock. One of these days you’re going to have to learn that you can’t just barge into people’s homes unannounced.”

“If you didn’t want us to, you shouldn’t have given us a key” Seth snarked.

“Don’t be an asshole, Seth” Wymack said absently he glanced at the wall and then just decided to pile the magazines on top of an already precarious pile and turned to the teens. It was then that he noticed the new addition in the room. “Who’s this?”

Neil figured he must look a picture, a small kid with droopy, murky hair clutching a bag to his side like his life depended on it. Neil would have cringed at being seen as so weak before he remembered that was what he wanted. Though the reason was seeming less important the longer he stood under Wymack’s scrutiny. He didn’t want to be pitied.

But even more than that he wanted Wymack’s eyes to leave him. His large statute reminded him of his father and he felt ill at ease. He could almost hear his blood pumping in his ears and he was mentally counting the number of steps he would need to reach the door.

It took his a moment for his heart to slow down and for him to meet Wymack’s eyes. He was surprised to find that here was not pity in Wymack’s appraising glare, only curiosity. Neil felt better. Being seen as confusing was better than being seen as pathetic.

“You must be the new kid at Marbury.” He finished drying his hand before slowly extending it in Neil’s direction. “Wymack.”

Neil hesitated a moment before shaking it back. “Neil.”

“Nice to finally meet you Neil. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Neil didn’t know what he meant by that or who had been talking about him. It was probably Seth.

Wymack continued. “The unsociable one over there is my son Kevin.” He gestured to the dark haired kid sitting on the couch. Kevin didn’t bother to look up. Wymack sighed but continued. “As you can see the bunch is all here. Well almost, we’re still waiting for a few more.”

Seth audibly groaned. “Why the fuck do we have to keep letting that monster-”

Wymack shut him up with a look, and Seth conceded, mumbling.

“One of you can set the table. Dinner’s almost ready.”

The doorbell rang off in the distance, and Wymack headed over to it continuing his rant with no real heat, his voice carrying over his shoulder and down the hall to them “See, manners. Ringing the doorbell. Like a fucking – Hey, Abby- civilized person.”

“I brought rolls.” She said holding them out.

“Sweet.” Seth reached over, but she expertly evaded him. She glanced at Neil and smiled.

“Hello. Who are you?”

“Neil.” He said. The more he said it the more it felt like his actual name.

She smiled brightly at him. “Nice to meet you Neil. I’ve heard about you from Seth. I was wondering when everyone was going to bring you around.” She shook his hand. “I’m a nurse at the hospital and also have a contract with Marbury.”

It was a bit much to take in all at once and he was a little overwhelmed by her. She wasn’t someone he could just forget; she had established that her job placed her in his life. If this dinner went poorly he could leave it and manage to avoid Matt, Wymack, Dan, Allison, and Renee if he wanted to. He couldn’t avoid Abby.

But what made a bigger impression on him than her permanent status in his current life was the presence she carried about her. Despite the power she unknowingly held over his life, she wasn’t a threat. He didn’t know what it was about her, maybe it was her unimposing manner or the fact that she smelled like fresh bread, but she seemed safe. Not that that meant she was. He better than most people knew that. He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening once more.

The door hurled towards the wall at an impressive speed, only narrowly prevented from hitting the wall by a lanky teen who barely managed to catch the door in time.

“Shit,” he said as he caught it. Smoothing his hand along the edge as if to reassure himself that it wouldn’t slip out of his fingers. “Shit.” And just as suddenly as he had entered, his expression morphed in one of enthusiasm as he flashed a bright smile to everyone in the room. “Hey everyone!”

“Hey Nicky” voices responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

He was so busy trying to figure out what those differing receptions meant about Nicky that he almost didn’t notice that the darker teen hadn’t arrived alone. From behind Nicky was stepped a small blond kid that looked unmistakably like Andrew.

Just at that moment Nicky’s eyes caught on Neil grin widening. “Who’s the new kid?” he walked over to Neil and held out his hand. “I’m Nicky. The silent one behind me is my cousin, Aaron.”

Neil shook his hand, confused.

The confusion must have shown on his face because Nicky took it upon himself to try and explain.

“Oh! His mom and my dad were siblings. My father met my mother in Mexico and then their lives were blessed when they had me.”

Neil nodded absently, but his other question still remained.

“Are you related to Andrew?”

“Um, yes. Why?” His face became pained. “Don’t tell me you met him before us. Some of us like to make good impressions.”

Seth scoffed. “Like you could ever make a good impression.”

“Fuck off, Seth.”

“I need you guys to bring the food over.” Wymack called from the kitchen.

Nicky seemed eager to end that particular conversation and hurried to the help.

Neil figured he’d have to make do with that answer and went over to help Wymack bring the food to the table. “Yes, sir.”

“Polite. Take note.” he said, pointing the tongs at the rest of the kids.

Nicky snorted.

They all set the food on the table and picked their seats. Wymack sat at one end of the table while Abby sat at the other. Neil sat next to Abby. Allison pulled up the chair next to him, pulling Renee into the seat next to her, but not before delivering a pointed glare in Seth’s direction. Dan settle in next to Wymack and Renee with Matt taking the chair across from her and next to Wymack, as well with Seth throwing himself in the seat next to him with a huff, glaring at Allison, while she pretended not to notice. Instead she seemed to have a sudden interest in Neil’s arm, patting it gently. Saying something. He didn’t really know. He wasn’t paying attention. He tucked his bag under his chair.

When Seth saw what he was doing he scoffed. “You still carrying around that bag? You have to set it down one of these days.”

“I will, when I don’t have to worry about someone looking through it.”

A variety of expressions washed everyone’s face, most of them decidedly unpleasant. All of them except Seth had some degree of a cringe on their face.

Dan just looked sad for him, and when she spoke she sounded exhausted beyond all measure. She rubbed her face “Please tell me that the monster doesn’t have it out for you.”

At that moment it all began clicking, and Neil wanted nothing more than to leave. He started to pick up his bag, getting ready to stand, but was startled back into his seat by a voice spoke up behind him.

“Where are you heading off to? Don’t tell me the little runaway is living up to his name.” Neil’s whole body tensed and he turned around to face Andrew.

“This was what I was saying about knocking.” Wymack muttered

“I’m not a runaway. I’m just staying in the home until my mom gets out of rehab.”

“Sure, sure.” Andrew waved him off. He stood back and let a woman around Abby and Wymack’s age slide into the seat next to Seth.

“This is Bee, Neil. The resident shrink. Get to know her. I can already tell you’ll need her guidance.” Neil narrowed his eyes in a glare at Andrew before facing the smiling woman.

She waved cheerily. “Hi, I’m Betsy Dobson, but most everyone calls be Bee.”

“Neil, ma’am.” He said absently, unable to pull his eyes away from Andrew, who was taking the seat across the table from him. He didn’t figure he would need to remember her name. He had no intention of going to see her.

They all settled down and began passing the dishes around the table. Everybody made the unspoken agreement to ignore the tension that had appeared between Andrew and Neil. Instead, several of the kids bickered about who would got dibs to what dish first. Neil passed each dish silently, watching everyone and studying their interactions.

They all fell into comfortable chatter occasionally exclaiming about whatever they felt was interesting. The only one who wasn’t speaking was Andrew. Neil snuck a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Andrew was slumped in his seat, legs sticking out in front of him, almost touching Neil’s under the table, though he kept a distance. Andrew was watching all their faces with an impassive look on his face. Until his eyes flickered over to Neil’s. They both sat there, frozen for a moment. Neil felt like a deer caught in the headlights until Andrew coolly looked away that Neil could breathe again.

Neil forced his attention back to the conversation at hand, but found it difficult to keep up with the four or so intersecting conversations. He marveled at the ease they all felt with each other, the way they were able to be so open and themselves. Neil couldn’t help but want the same thing for himself. It was a stupid, pointless desire but he wanted it all the same.

You could have this a voice, clearly rooted in dreams and fantasies, said. You’re out. This is your chance for a normal life. These could be the people to do it with.

And they could be. Neil had a pretty good sense about people at times and though these people seemed that they could be assholes, they didn’t come across as malevolent. How they could just be so open when they all were apparently “lost cause” kids was beyond him.

Though, maybe he could learn. Maybe-

A sharp pain shot up his leg and he pulled himself back to attention. His head whipped over in Andrew direction and he fixed him with a glare. Andrew simply gave him a blank look that said Pay attention. Neil frowned. Andrew turned his bored look away from him and back to the conversation at the table.

Neil fumed. He really hated that asshole.

But despite the fact that he wanted to piss Andrew off, that he didn’t zone out again. Instead he opted to listen to the conversations being volleyed around the table. With every conversation he was able to pick out small things about each of his dining mates.

He caught how Matt’s gaze would linger a little longer when he was talking to Dan, how his eyes would sneak back over to her for half a second when she wasn’t looking. He also noticed that sometimes she did the same.

Nicky was trying very hard to fit in. Almost too hard. He made it seem like it was his life mission to get Aaron involved. Like his acceptance hinged on whether or not he could get Aaron to contribute to the conversation.

Conversely, Aaron seemed like he would have rather been anywhere other than there. Only breaking off his glaring at Nicky to stab his food. Neil had never seen someone stab mashed potatoes with such ferocity.

Something was going on between Allison and Seth and neither of them was doing anything to hide it. Allison was pointedly not looking at Seth despite all his efforts to catch her eye. Instead she had her body almost completely facing Renee as they talked.

Wymack was talking with many of the people at the table, getting up to date on what was happening while also trying to get his son to be sociable, though he stopped about halfway through when it looked like it was a lost cause.

Kevin was reading his book underneath the table and trying to keep his father from noticing. Whatever he was reading was it was obviously that he was obsessed with it.

Abby and Betsy were taking about some sort of medication trail that was supposed to be implemented soon and how current legislation was preventing it.

Andrew, surprisingly enough, didn’t stay silent the entire night. He peppered his silence with sparse sentences that he threw to Wymack, Renee, and Betsy, of all people. However over the course of dinner he said less and less.

Towards the end of dinner Neil snuck another look at him and saw that Andrews’s eyes were distant, looking though the salt shaker on the table. In that moment, Neil couldn’t help his deep, petty instincts and gave Andrew’s shin a sharp kick under the table. It was almost remarkable to watch his eyes go from vacant to completely present in the span of a few seconds. Andrew looked up at him, and a small frown pinched his brows together. It was barely noticeable and he knew that if he hadn’t been watch he probably would have missed it.

Neil returned it with a glare. How do you like it, Asshole?

If he hadn’t been watching, Neil wouldn’t have noticed the way Andrew’s frown deepened, just barely. Fuck off.

Neil shrugged and looked away.

It wasn’t long before dinner was finished. There seemed to be some unspoken agreement what the meal was officially over, as everyone all began to get up and clear the table at the same time. He followed their lead, stacking his dishes to bring them into the kitchen.

“Neil, a word.” He startled, and if he had been holding his dishes, he might have dropped them. He had almost perfected hiding his starts every time he heard a voice that could belong to someone the same age as his father. However, the look Andrew gave him on the way to kitchen showed him that he hadn’t perfected it enough.

Neil turned to Wymack, confused. Wymack gestured over to him and walked to the adjoining living room. Neil followed, being careful to leave enough space between them. Wymack just looked at him, like he noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to give you this.” He help out his hand in front of him, dangling a key.

“This is a key to the apartment. It doesn’t sound like you have anyone to support you right now, so just know that if you need anything, you can come here. You don’t have to. You could choose to never come here again. But you can. You’ll probably find one of them” He gestured to the group, who were somehow managing to argue about how to clean the dishes, “Here almost any day.”

He lifted up the second key on the keyring. “This one is to the file cabinet over there. This is the only key. You can stash your things in there so you can take a shit without having to haul it in with you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can come and ask me or Bee or Abby or any of the other kids. And when it gets closer to the school year, you can ask them or me for help signing up for your classes and everything.” He nodded his head at Neil’s hand and Neil obediently held it out. Wymack dropped the keyring into it and Neil held onto it, and stuck it in his pocket. Wymack nodded before heading back to the kitchen. “You have to scrape the food off before you wash it, you heathens. And for the love of- No, Seth you’re not washing them again.’

“Come on that was one time-“

And Neil was left standing in the living room, staring after them, bewildered and breathless. He felt as if he would float away. He was only anchored by the cool key pressing into his palm.

***

It was morning. Too fucking early in the morning.

Not that he hadn’t already been awake, but still.

He dragged himself out of bed after he heard Leroy leave the room and pulled on some clothes and padded down the stairs. He grabbed a bowl from the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal and walked over to the eating area.

As much as he didn’t care for it, Andrew still ate at the long table where the rest of the residents of Maybury ate their meals. And this morning, like almost every other morning, all of the residents were eating together.

Well, all of them except for Neil. He seemed to have this annoying habit of being out running and not getting back until breakfast was half over.

Seth settled in to the seat across from Leroy, who was sitting a ways off from Andrew, much to Andrew’s satisfaction. The more space people put between him and them, the better.

“I fucking swear, that kid’s so weird.” Seth muttered murderously as he stabbed at his cereal with his spoon.

Leroy hummed. “Who? Neil?”

“Yes, Neil.” He viciously stirred his corn flakes. “That bastard wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go do- whatever it is he does. And he won’t even get changed in the room if I’m there. It’s not like I’m gay or anything. I’m not going to check out his dick, so I don’t know why he does that. And he does that stupid thing where you change out with one shirt without taking the other one off and it’s just. Stupid.” He exasperatedly flung his spoon into the bowl earning him a glare from Madera which he ignored. He raised his hands and began gesturing with them instead. “And I fucking swear, he must be fucking that bag or something, he never lets it go. I think he fucking sleeps with it.”

“We are all different.”

“There’s different and there’s weird ass freak.” He said pointedly before taking another bite of his breakfast.

Andrew listened to their conversation, his curiosity peaking for the umpteenth time since he had met the boy. He didn’t know what it meant that this kid was quickly becoming the most interesting part of his day. He decided not to dwell on that and instead on Josten’s suspicious behavior.

He was definitely hiding something. That much was obvious. Unfortunately for Andrew, that paranoid brat never seemed to leave his bag alone long enough for him to investigate, and it was thoroughly starting to piss him off. Despite not having any successful attempts at the bag, the exhaustion on Josten’s face was a nice consolation prize.

He knew that Josten’s tale of drug addict parents was a load of horse shit. Honestly.

He didn’t doubt that Josten’s home life was less than ideal; that much was obvious. But he doubted that it was caused by parental addiction. Andrew suspected he was from a bad home. Probably a very bad home if he was still refusing to change around Seth even after a few weeks. He didn’t know what sort of damage had been done but he knew it had to enough to be unmistakable under his clothes, but not enough to impede his movements.

Every morning he went out to run, bag still strapped to his back. He ran for a while but he always came back. He was fast, Andrew would give him that, with strong legs. Fitting for a runner he thought, drawing the train of thought away from where it was heading.

Josten had probably tried to run away before and had been caught. Probably multiple times.

He watched as Neil waked into the dining hall and trudged up the stairs in frustration. He had to figure what was in that bag.

***

After coming back from his run after breakfast Neil tossed his bag on the floor in frustration. He couldn’t stand carrying it around anymore.

Wymack was nice enough to let him store his bag in his old, locked file cabinet while he was there but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving it there over night or times when he wasn’t there. He needed to be able to easily access his bag if he needed to.

What it boiled down to was that Neil needed to get something to lock away the more sensitive items in his bag. Something impenetrable, something only he would be able to open.

He needed to get a safe, he concluded.

It would have to be today. Andrew always seemed to have to be gone from 3 to 4 every Wednesday, though for what, Neil had no clue. Neil took a seat on his bunk and looked at his watch. It was 2:45. He spent the time waiting for Andrew exit his room mapping out the route to the nearest shopping center and back. A good safe would be too big to carry along with his bag. Seth would be out working or with Alison for the foreseeable future. And most of the kids avoided the room like the plague for fear of facing Seth’s wrath.

Neil decided to take the risk and left his bag behind.

Neil exited the room silently, and went down the stairs and out the building before his speed walking smoothly shifted into a run as he made his way to the shopping center.

***

Neil Josten had surpassed suspicious and had become a walking mystery.

Scratch that- a fucking enigma.

The kid was trying to stay alive and Andrew felt himself captivated, to a degree by that passion. He hadn’t felt that way in- he didn’t know how long. But here was this kid, who was probably younger than him, fighting tooth and nail to save his own skin. And he kept his secrets clutched tightly to his chest, even now, when he was at Marbury. What had happened before to get him to end up here? What had been so bad that this secretive boy’s life got exposed and the authorities got involved?

Despite how much he would readily deny it, especially to Bee, he found Josten’s mysterious appearance and behavior interesting.

Maybe he had a really low bar for what constituted as interesting.

Things were getting too boring around that damn town.

And that wasn’t even an exaggeration. There was almost nothing to do. There wasn’t much to do around town, only a couple of parks, an ice cream parlor, a handful of restaurants, and a movie theater. He could always spend time around the other foxes, but he didn’t want to hear them bitching or asking him to help with their pointless ventures into the musical world. He got enough of that from Kevin.

Instead his days blurred together, one nondescript day bleeding into the next. It should have been reassuring, after everything he had gone through and his hectic switch from foster home to foster home, but the complacency left him on edge. He always felt like something was going to happen.

It was Wednesday, and he had a session with Bee again. They chatted easily, with her asking about his wellbeing and his week. He gave her the brief overview of what was going on with his job and what the other residents were doing this week and what annoying things Josten had done. He didn’t mention his suspicions to her much, though; he knew better than to make accusations without any proof. Besides, he didn’t think that Bee would approve of his unwillingness to cut Josten any slack. She’d probably want to help Josten or something; she had a thing about helping lost causes.

Actually, he should stop bring up Josten at all. It would be better that way. He cringed at the thought that he was becoming sort of attached to the scrawny boy. It wasn’t so much the kid himself that was interesting, but the air of mystery he possessed. The sooner he figured out what was in the bag, the sooner he could stop obsessing over him.

The kid probably wasn’t even that interesting. Few things ever were. Besides, Josten probably would be off sooner rather than later.

Also, he needed to stop bringing up the younger kid during his sessions with Bee; he didn’t like the pleased look on her face every time he mentioned the smaller kid.

“Stop smiling.”

“I can’t help it Andrew. I think that is the first time I’ve ever really see you take an interest in something that wasn’t tied to protecting other people.”

“I protect people because I take an interest in keeping them safe.”

“And that’s good, I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s very noble for you to want to protect others.”

Andrew wanted to scoff but he didn’t. Noble his ass.

”But Neil, isn’t like them, is he? Something about him is different. And you want to know what that something is. It’s good that you want something.

He frowned at her for that. She just sipped her cocoa.

He stayed frowning.

“I want nothing.”

When he finally got back to the house, he was irritated and just wanted quiet. Hopefully Leroy wouldn’t get it into his head to try and talk to him today.

He was almost to his room when he noticed it. He back tracked and then walked over to the room next to his own. Seth and Josten’s room door was closed. Seth was working, as hectic as Seth’s personality was, his daily schedule was fairly stable. But more important than that, Josten never had the door closed when he was inside. He seemed to like to have his escape route as easily accessible as possible.

He leant his ear against the door and listened. There were no sounds coming from inside.

He eased the door open carefully, just in case anyone was still in the room, and found that the lights were off and that the beds were empty. He slid in easily, gently closing the door behind him. The room was decorated with Seth’s magazines and posters hanging up on the wall. Though they might have been Josten’s.

Who was he kidding? He had seen the inside of the room enough already to know which trashy posters were Seth’s. Josten hadn’t added anything to that shit storm. He probably didn’t have anything like that when he ran. It would take up too much space in his bag.

But despite that Neil hadn’t taken the time to add anything to the room. There was nothing in there that really differed from how the room had been before he had moved in. The bottom bunk’s sheets were perfectly made, hiding any trace that they had been slept in. The only thing that could be associated with Josten was that bag.

Speaking of that bag…

He looked over at Josten’s bed and saw the strap of his bag peeking out from underneath. He pulled it out and sat down on his haunches. It was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t planning on staying like that for long.

He looked down at the bag before him, satisfied glee registering faintly. He situated it in front of himself and mentally took it part. The bag had obviously seen better days but it had been kept in fairly good condition. There were parts where it had been resewn and there were old mud stains on parts of the bottom. And the bag carried with it the smell of long hours of travel.

He remembered the time the Spears had taken him camping when he first started living with them. They pulled old suitcases and sleeping bags out of a shed. Every piece had an old, musty smell, that wouldn’t come out no matter how many times they waved them in the sun to air them out. He didn’t know that smell was so universal, or that it would be so nostalgia inducing.

He hadn’t even met Drake yet. He was nothing more than a story. Nothing more than a name that slipped fondly off of Cass’s lips.

It still would be fond. It still is. You know she would have chosen him over you. He’s her real son. She will always love him more than you. If she ever really loved you at all. You were just a stand in. A stand in for Drake. You were like a little puppy she got for Christmas- interesting at first but you know she’d get bored of you and pass you off to the next family. You’d lose you novelty just like the Christmas dogs. Ha. It’s fitting. You were Drake’s bitch-

Now’s not the time for this.

He leant forward and unzipped the bag and strategically began to pull out its contents. At the top were all the worn, ratty clothes that Josten had already worn at least five times in the weeks that he had been there. It really was a shame, because Josten had a nice face and a lean enough figure that he probably could have looked good if he ever decided to wear something that fit him or was made in this century. Andrew hated those fucking clothes.

And maybe he got a little more enjoyment than he would like to admit at chucking Josten’s clothes on the ground after he had sifted through them.

After the clothes were removed, the bag was fairly empty. The bag had always seemed so full. So it seemed that although Josten didn’t have a lot of clothing, there had obviously been enough to fill up most of the bag. But these monstrosities were not packed away alone. Far from it, in fact. There were still more contents lurking at the bottom of that bag.

Underneath all that ugly threadbare clothing and those fucking jorts, he was pleasantly surprised to feel the edges of something else. A few something elses.

He reached into the bag and pulled out the box that rested on the top, which happened to be a box of hair dye. The same color that Josten had been sporting his entire stay at Marbury. He checked the top of the box and found that it had been opened and used before.

He looked back at the cover. The woman on the front was sporting what he assumed was supposed to be sultry look, but instead looked like she was trying too hard. Underneath her face was a banner that promised silky smooth locks that were guaranteed to be better than anything else that could be produced with any other product. He looked at the color label. Earthy Onyx. What the fuck was that? Wasn’t onyx already a rock? What did they mean by earthy. He flipped the box over and read the descriptive label

With this patented color alteration serum, your hair can attain the color of the rich, tropical land of Hawai’i. Our color experts traveled the beautiful Hawaiian Islands and trekked the forests to find the richest browns that lay hidden deep in the earth, untouched by man. They also climbed to the top of the active volcanos to find the rich blacks of the volcanic rock that helped to form the Hawai’ian islands centuries ago. With this natural inspiration in mind, we combined these colors to give you more natural looking hair. That paired with-

He chucked the box to the side and pulled out the next item. He didn’t need a stupid hair dye ad rattling around in his brain for the rest of his life. Knowing his luck it would be the last thing he thought about before he finally croaked.

At the bottom of the bag was a binder and a thick black cloth rolled up and tied with a sturdy cord. He flipped open the binder and scanned its contents. Pages of math homework in plastic slips filled page after page of the binder. The only thing that differentiated them from normal homework were the doodles in the margins. They were fairly good, but they were small. There was no need to keep entire sheets of paper when a smaller part could be cut out. The fact that Josten insisted on running with this binder filled with dead weight was highly suspicious.

He found the slit at the edge of one of the plastic sheets and pried the edges apart. He looked into the plastic binder sheets and found things stashed away between the pages of the math homework. He found contact lenses (he was right) and several hundred dollar bills placed thinly between the pages.

That was indeed suspicious. Where had a fourteen year old gotten that much money? Dozens of possibilities flew through his mind but he brushed them away. He could think about it later.

He slipped the binder’s contents back into place and then set it aside.

He turned his attention to the last item in the bag: a short clunky roll of black fabric. He carefully undid the expertly knotted cord and felt his eyes widen. Unrolled it acted as a sheath that held several knives and other tools, each of which was securely strapped into place.

And they weren’t just shitty kitchen knives. These were high quality knives. Ones intended to deal out harm to an unwitting opponent, not much different from the ones he had stashed in his armbands. The ones he had gotten from Renee. But Renee had earned her knives on the street. In order to get them she had to be familiar with the many ways that they could be used to slash and kill if need be.

But these knives weren’t for street fights. They had a sort of class about them. He never thought he’d see classy knives anywhere except on TV. Not only were they fancy, but he could tell that they were carefully taken care of. There wasn’t a spot on the blade and he could bring himself to mar the shiny metal with a single fingerprint.

No, these knives were not for people who learned to fight on the streets; they were people who were raised to kill and fight. People born with a silver spoon in their mouth and a stainless steel knife in their hand.

The knives had unimaginably sharp edges for turning flesh to ribbons, and each blade was coated in a metal so reflective that the wielder to see the darkness in their own eyes before they plunged the knife into their victim’s back. The construction alone was exquisite, from the handle to the tip. And every inch of the blades were kept in pristine condition, no doubt carefully and consistently maintained.

How the fuck had he slipped these by the suits?

He rolled it up quickly and stashed it back in the bag before replacing the duffle bag’s contents. He made sure that everything was back in the same place and even took the care to refold the ugly jorts, which he knew he should have tossed, or at least given to Allison.

Though she might even see it as a sort of peace offering, or as an indication that he wanted to talk to her.

He made sure the jorts were securely in the bag.

He zipped it up and slid it back in place under the bed before quite sneaking back to his own room.

***

It ended up taking much longer than he expected. Many of the stores flat out didn’t have any safes in stock. What kind of home furnishing store didn’t have a safe? Were people really that naïve? In his opinion people who were able to buy furniture that fancy probably needed a safe.

The fourth store did have them, but many were much too small. What those tiny safes were supposed to hold, he didn’t know. Maybe jewels or wads of cash. Or office supplies. Actually probably just the jewels and cash. That actually made sense most people didn’t want to lock up their office supplies (which was ironic, he thought, because the only place that had safes was an office supply store).

He had almost lost hope by the time he reached the end of the aisle when he finally found one big enough to store his binder. It was a clumsy thing to carry and it made walking awkward and running impossible.

By the time he made it back to Marbury it was already a quarter past 4. He quickly made his way up the stairs and into his room. He shut the door behind him. He pulled out his bag and already felt something was off. He hoped it was nothing, but with a sinking feeling he knew what happened. He checked the tags of his shirt, which he specially bent in order to tell if they had been messed with and saw that they were flattened like the other tags. He lifted out his clothes to find his stuff hidden at the bottom. Anger began to burn inside him at the thought of that bastard digging through his stuff. Why couldn’t that fucker just leave him alone?

Neil zipped up his bag, tossed the binder and knives into the safe, and then locked it securely before he made it over to the room next door. Leroy was just walking up the stairs as Neil positioned himself outside the door to his and Andrew’s room, and his face lit up.

“Hey, Neil! How are you today? Did you go out? What did you do?”

Neil cut him off

“Is Andrew in? I need to talk to him.”

Leroy’s smile faded and a look of anxiety replaced it. “Uh, yeah. Do you need me to…?”

Neil waved his hand. “I think it would be better if I spoke to him alone”

Leroy’s face flooded with relief. He gave a quick nod before heading back down the stairs and away from the explosion that was bound to happen.

Neil turned back towards the door and slid in silently before closing the door behind him. Andrew was lounging on the top bunk, book in hand. At the sound of the door closing, his eyes flicked over to him, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

He had spent a lot of time since he had found that his stuff had been gone through to think about how he wanted to approach Andrew: he could go with a meek approach asking why he did it; he could also feign ignorance: or he could just cut the crap and bring it up.

But as he saw Andrew lying there as though he hadn’t done anything, he discarded his more simpering options. Neil figured that increasing the antagonism would be the best way to start this. Just so there would be no confusion. And it’s not like he had anything left to hide. Weak kids didn’t usually carry a whole set of knives and several thousand dollars. He looked up and Andrew and leaned back against the door, casually.

“How did you get up there? I didn’t think you could reach,” he asked. “Did Leroy have to help you?”

Andrew’s glare intensified and he snapped his book shut.

“Why are you in here?” he asked. “Surely you aren’t stupid enough to think this is your room?”

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you, considering you seemed to have mixed up my room with yours earlier today.” Andrew’s expression didn’t waver so Neil continued. “Stay out of my room and stay out of my stuff.”

“Oh, really,” Andrew pushed himself off the bed, landing on his feet. “And why should I do that? You’re hiding something and I intend to find out what it is.”

“Really, you don’t have anything better to do?”

“Oh, I do.” He said carelessly, crossing his arms. “I just can’t do it with your shifty ass sneaking around.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Well, could you get this stupid hazing ritual of yours over with sometime soon. Like you, I want to get back to doing what I want without having to look over my shoulder or worry about someone digging through my stuff.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, considering him a moment.

“Friday.”

“Friday?’

“Friday. Here. 8 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Neil pulled away from the wall. “Fine.”

Andrew nodded as Neil backed out of the room before slamming the door in his face.

Despite feeling that he just dug himself into a hole, Neil found he couldn’t care less.

Friday.

He had until Friday to come up for a convincing reason for the knives and money. Already dozens of lies was spinning in his mind.

His parents were abusive and he stole all their cookware before he ran away?

No. he wouldn’t believe that for a second

Brought knives for self-defense? No they were too nice.

His father was a butcher.

Haha. no.

Trying to protect his mother.

That didn’t explain-

The list kept growing longer and longer. He wasn’t sure, but whatever he settled on would have to be good. Would have to be good enough to convince the guy who had seen through him without even knowing him. He realized that he was still standing outside Andrew’s door. He turned and walked down the stairs. He needed to go for a run.

***

It was still light out by the time 8 o’clock rolled around on Friday. However, despite this, he didn’t feel any better about venturing out with Andrew. But he had never been one to be easily deterred.

Neil stood outside Andrew’s door ready for whatever disastrous outing Andrew had planned. Neil rapped on the door with one hand before leaning back, waiting. It only took a moment for Andrew to open the door. He stared blankly at Neil before opening the door enough to allow Neil to pass through. Leroy was laying on the bottom bunk and looked up brightly when he saw Neil walk in. He must have realized that it wasn’t time to talk because his smile dimmed a moment and he quickly picked up his game and hurried out the room.

“Hey, Neil. Guess I’ll see you later. Have fun guys.” He said quickly before disappearing out the door.

Neil turned back to Andrew who appeared to be studying Neil’s clothes.

“That won’t work.”

Neil scoffed. “I don’t really have much else besides this.”

“Trust me, I know.” He scoffed. Neil wanted to scoff right back. Who did this guy think he was? His clothes were fine.

“And,” Neil felt himself insisting, “It’s not like you told me much about where we’re going so I could dress accordingly. Oh wait,” he said sarcastically, snapping his fingers as if he suddenly remembered something, “you haven’t said anything about where we’re going.”

Andrew just gave him a look, before turning back to his closet, digging through it.

“For all I knew,” Neil plowed on “we were going to paint our nails and braid our hair and talk about boys or whatever.

“Your hair’s not long enough to braid.” Andrew said absently. “And I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not. I was just listing things that I heard people do at sleepovers.”

“I figured. You sound clueless as fuck. And as if I’d want to spend the night with you. Here,” he tossed a bundle of clothes at Neil. “These should fit.”

Neil looked down at the clothes in his hands and then back at Andrew, who was crossing his arms waiting for him to say something.

“I’m not… changing with you here.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “I heard you didn’t like changing around people. Didn’t figure you were so self-conscious.”

“What, you were talking about me changing? Is this what you do in your spare time? What other exciting things do you talk about?” he asked with mock interest. “Do you ask Seth to jot down whether I take a shit or a piss? Or do you wait outside the door yourself. If you’re really so curious I’ll tell you. It’s as weird as fuck but I’m not really one to judge.”

Andrew gave him an unimpressed look before rolling his eyes.

“Your buddy was saying it. He’s worried you think he’s going to check you out. He was very upset that you might think he’s gay or something.”

Neil couldn’t hold back the urge to roll his eyes. “I don’t give a shit whether he’s gay or not. He needs to realize that there’s more going on than him.”

Andrew looked at him a moment before walking to the door.

“You have 5 minutes before I come back in here and drag your ass out.” He said before he turned on his heel left the room.

Neil didn’t trust that Andrew wouldn’t just open the door at any moment, but he figured that it was just a chance he was going to have to take. He quickly shed the clothes he had worn and left them in a pile on the floor. He stared at it a minute before balling the clothes up and draping them obnoxiously across Andrew’s bed. Andrew knew about the money and knives in his bag. If he told anyone about that, he would be out of there faster than a rabbit in a fox den. Though maybe, he thought as he pulled the shirt over his head, maybe it would be better off that way. Better to be away from prying eyes. Though, he figured, hopping on one leg trying to get on the black pants Andrew had given him, he didn’t know what he would get at those places. They could be worse for all he knew.

Neil tied his shoes and opened the door to find Andrew leaning against the wall casually. Neil was surprised that he hadn’t walked in, finding out the secrets he no doubt was curious about, but he hadn’t. Andrew glanced over at Neil when he heard the door open. He leant away from the wall, nodding towards the stairs and began to walk. They left the building and made their way down the street. They walked over to the bus stop and waited for it come by. The stood there silently until the bus came and they boarded.

They rode in silence. Some of the sights were familiar, though others didn’t appear to be.

When they finally reached their destination, Andrew pulled the cord to signal the stop and got ready to get off. Neil followed him off the bus. Their surrounding were vaguely familiar, but they were hard to place in the fading light. Andrew led the way to the back door of a sort of club. He made his way through the kitchen until they walked though double doors into the actual club. And the club was… yikes.

There was so much tasteless leather and so many useless chains adorning the scantily clad patrons. Neil knew that people criticized his clothes, but he didn’t really think that people could really judge him when there were people willingly going out dressed like extras in a vampire sex flick.

Andrew dodged through the dancers to the bar. There was a young individual in training beside an older bartender.

Andrew gestured at the younger. “Roland.”

Roland’s face lit up. “Andrew!” his gaze shifted over to Neil looking him up and down. ”And you brought a friend.”

“I need my usual and a standard for Neil.”

“I don’t drink.”

Roland just nodded before disappearing.

Neil wanted to ask how Andrew knew him but Roland had already reappeared with a glass of honey colored liquid and an opened soda for Neil.

“Enjoy,” she said as he offered them their drinks. “Though, probably away from the dance floor.”

Andrew slid him some money before turning. They found a somewhat empty spot on the outskirts of the dancefloor. The chairs were high off the ground and he felt so obviously out of place that he was sure they get carded and kicked out. Andrew had seemed to have no such worries, easily hefting himself up onto the barstool next to Neil’s own. Andrew gave him a nod before downing his drink. Neil, foolishly, took a sip of his, before almost gagging it up.

It had been so long since he had last has soda, so he wasn’t sure if it was always this sweet, or if there was something off. He had it still lifted to his lips and Andrew tipped it, causing the liquid to flood into his mouth. He dripped the can to ground and tried to open his mouth, but Andrew’s hand was over his mouth pinching his nose, holding him against the wall. He struggled a moment before swallowing the vile liquid. Andrew let go and Neil staggered off. Andrew probably didn’t think that Neil would be able to get very far under the influence of the drugs. He quickly made his way over to one of the exits he had found when the first arrived. He hurried out to side door and forced himself to throw up. He was able to get rid of some of whatever Andrew had given him, be he was already starting to feel the effects.

He felt is way along the walls of the alley, before making it out onto the street. His vision was beginning to blur around the edges and the world was beginning to sway. Or maybe it was just his body. He honestly wasn’t sure.

He burst out onto the sidewalk, trying to find a focal point. All the landmarks were distorted in the darkness, sparse lamplight and unearthly neon warping the streets into a haunting nightmare. Though he didn’t have much of the drugs, he knew that they weren’t helping his perception. All he knew was that he needed to get away, and he didn’t care were. It wasn’t long before he saw the familiar sight of the bus stop. The bus was pulling up just as he stumbled over to it. He fumbled through his pockets before finding his bus pass and swiping it and getting inside. He planted himself into a seat, head spinning. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake and focused. He barely was able to focus enough to get off at a hub stop, switching to a bus that took its riders to the nearby connecting towns.

He boarded one of the busses and put his head between his knees, and drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness.

It seemed like no time at all had passed, before he hear shouting. He blinked awake, to see the bus driver turned around to face him.

“Kid, this is the last stop. You have to get off.”

Neil nodded vaguely and stumbled off. He had no idea where he was but he decided that the fact that he could barely stand was a more pressing matter. He managed to wander a little farther before collapsing on a bench and passing out.

***

Fuck-fuck fuckity-fuck. Shit. Fuck.

He had been looking an hour and he still couldn’t find that son of a bitch. Neil fucking (and he was also certain that that was the little bastard’s middle name; that kid was probably born screaming trouble) Josten a pain in the ass.

But whether or not Neil was a pain in the ass didn’t do anything to help him ignore the fact that he was in shit. Wymack hadn’t taken it well when he had put Boyd through the ringer; he wouldn’t be happy to know that Andrew had put the newest member of the fox family through something similar.

Shit.

He should have followed Neil when he got up. He was fucking runner. Of course he would make it for the exit. Of course he had the exits so ingrained in his mind that he was able to find his way out when he was half drugged out of his mind. When Andrew ahd finally made it out of the club, Josten was already gone. He had vanished. Disappeared. Andrew made his way back to Marbury but Neil wasn’t there.

He searched the streets and couldn’t find him. Part of him was glad he couldn’t.

Maybe after he gets back he’ll leave.

Unless he’s dead.

Not your problem. You weren’t the one that let him out into traffic. He did that himself.

Nice try trying to get yourself off the hook. Really? You know it’s your fault. It always is. Everything that goes wrong is your fault. Cass. Aaron. What is the common denominator? You.

And back and forth his mind went. All night these thoughts raced through his head until the early morning light appeared and he still hadn’t found him.

Shit.

***

Neil woke up to the sound of squawking and cawing so loud he could feel it rattling and echoing around his skull and the sensation that only came when one spends the night with their face smashed up against harsh wood. He pushed himself up from where he had sprawled out on the bench to look at his surroundings. There wasn’t much to see from where he was. No people. No cars. The only thing that he could see were two seagulls perched on top of a lamppost, no doubt waiting for some unsuspecting person to become the recipient of their unwanted shit. And as he pried his eyes away from them to scan the rest of the area, he felt his stomach drop.

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

It was obvious that he had wondered farther from the bus stop that it had seemed the night before, because it was nowhere to be seem. He righted himself more fully and anchored himself with his hands to keep himself from swaying off the seat. As soon as he was steady he pulled up his foot and dug through his shoe. He had only put a few dollars in them, as he figured that he would have enough time to go back and get his stuff, should he ever need to go back.

He hadn’t expected to be fucking drugged.

He could almost hear his mother yelling at him for letting his guard down, for becoming too comfortable, and he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with her sharp accusations.

He had been so incredibly stupid. He was lucky no one had come across him while he was sleeping. He was lucky he hadn’t walked into traffic. He was lucky he had lost Andrew. He was lucky he happened to stumble upon what appeared to be one of the most desolated areas to ever exist. He was lucky he wasn’t dead.

Or maybe that would have been a better fate. His head was pounding, his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, and his throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow. He closed his eyes to limit his senses in hopes that it would stave off his impending headache. He focused hard and finally was able to pick up the sound of people. He jerked himself to his feet and followed the noise.

He followed the sound to a local park. He zeroed in on the water fountains by the bathrooms. He dragged himself across the park until he reached that bless’d water fountain. The instant the cool water fell into his mouth he felt immediate relief. He decided he wouldn’t have minded staying there forever. He stayed their gulping in the fresh water until a kid came up behind and had to tell him his turn was up. He wiped away the water from his mouth and staggered away. He nodded and walked more steadily back to the bench.

From the bench he was finally able to get some sort of bearings and find the bus station. Next to the stop was a bulletin board with the bus schedule posted. It was laminated, but so old that the plastic was starting to peel in the corners, exposing the weathered paper. He looked at the itinerary and felt his heart sink. The bus only ran to the city during the week, not on the weekend. He wandered a bit farther until he found small shop and scoured the aisles until he found a map of the area and some water. He brought it all up to the counter.

The shop owner looked him up and down. “Rough night?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” He said absently. He looked around the store. “Do you have a phone? I need to call someone.”

The owner gave him a pitying look before turning the counter phone over to him.

Neil took the phone and typed in the number he needed and waited for him to pick up.

“What do you want?” an irritated voice answered.

“Hey, Kevin. This is Neil.” He twisted his fingers around the knotted phone cord. He hated this awkward conversation shit. “I need to talk to Wymack”

There was muffled sound a moment as the phone got passed from son to father“-fuck, kid. Where the hell are you? Seth called us last night when you went out and never came back.”

“Not sure. I’ll be back later. Just giving you warning, I’m going to be stopping by your place. I don’t think I can go back to Marbury right now.”

“Sure, it’s not a problem, but Neil-”

“Thanks, bye.” he said, putting the phone back on its receiver.

He nodded at the owner, and left crumpled bills and loose change on the counter as payment, before making his way out to the road. After studying the map a while, he figured he wasn’t more thirty miles away from town. He made his way for the freeway, holding out a thumb for cars heading in his direction.

It took a while before a young couple picked him up. It had been much easier to get a ride when it had been his mother and him. People were much more likely to help a mother and her young son, than to help some teen who looked like just got wasted the night before and slept on a park bench.

They took him about thirteen miles towards his destination and from there he found someone who could take him another nine. From there it was only about eight, which was easily manageable when he’s sober, and only a little less hung over.

Eventually he saw the old faded sign that was outside the town. He found a bus stop and used his pass to get back to Wymack’s place.

When he got to it, he almost let out a sigh of relief. He clambered up the stairs, fishing out his keys and sliding in. He almost wanted to collapse on the floor from exhaustion and fatigue, but managed to keep standing. It was obvious that no one had heard him enter because he could hear Wymack’s frustrated voice, obviously in the middle of an argument.

“-after last time. You almost screwed him over, Minyard. And what about this kid? What did he do that you felt you and to do whatever it is that you did last night.”

Neil was almost shocked to hear Andrew’s voice. “I did what I had to do.” Frustrated grumbling threatened to interrupt him, but Andrew held up a hand to silence him and continued on. “He was keeping something and he wasn’t going to say what otherwise.”

“Well drugging someone one isn’t exactly fucking ideal way to get information is it?” Neil asked, leaning against the wall, in way he hoped mimicked the anger pulsing through his veins and not just a slumped display of exhaustion.

“Look, the runaway came back, Coach” Andrew said gesturing to Neil. “All in one piece.”

“This isn’t simple like that, Minyard, and you know it.”

“Just let me talk to him.”

“There’s no fucking way-”

“No, we need to talk.” Neil agreed, seething.

Wymack shot him an incredulous look. “There’s no way I’m leaving you two alone together.”

“Don’t worry, Coach. I won’t kill him”

Wymack didn’t look like he believed him but he turned from Andrew to glance at Neil whose steady fuming gaze was on Andrew, before backing off, hands raised in surrender. “You have five minutes. Five,” he emphasized holding up his hands for them to see, “Unless I hear something breaking or someone dying from outside. If that happens, I’m coming in, understood?”

They nodded absently not breaking the deadlocked stare down they had. Neil didn’t turn to watch Wymack leave, but he heard the door close as he left.

“You’re lucky I’m not fucking going to kill you.”

“Oh, look, the runaway speaks.”

“You’re not denying it. You’ve seen what’s in my bag. You better believe that I know how to use it.”

“Ah, the bag. That’s what we’ve been needing to talk about.”

“Why won’t you let this go? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“No can do. I know you’re lying- about a lot of stuff. And I don’t fucking fancy sitting here twiddling my thumbs waiting for whatever hellfire storm is just waiting to fall on you. I can handle shit but I don’t like surprises.”

There was a darkness in his eyes that Neil couldn’t even begin to fathom as he said the last part. The darkness was one that Neil had only ever seen in his own eyes; not his father’s, his own. It was a darkness of having lived through too much and having to pretend like they hadn’t. It was the look of being very much alone for much too long.

He had always had his mother but they weren’t close. They were merely companions on their rollercoaster ride of pain and suffering. And although he knew Andrew was constantly around Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky, he also knew Andrew had suffered alone. And with that look, within that moment, Neil felt something shifting inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was or if he was going to like it, but something was changing and for some reason that filled him with apprehension.

“Any why should I tell you anything?” he threw out and he could feel the way the question hung out there between them. He could feel the tension, the way Andrew’s answer would determine how this conversation was going to go. Everything was balancing on the edge of a knife point and only Andrew could decide if someone would get stabbed.

“I know about the knives and the cash you have stashed. Madera might be interested to hear about it. She might take them away or kick you out.”

Neil didn’t even bother trying to hide his eye roll. “You think I’m scared of leaving? You’ve called me a runaway. Do you think you threats of making me leave are frightening? Your threats mean nothing to me.”

“Then why, “Andrew sneered, leaning forward, “haven’t you left yet?”

Neil opened his mouth, but he hesitated, the words catching on his throat like a burr on a wool sock.

“I like it here.” The admission was painful, the words tearing away his skin, laying his soul bare. He swallowed and continued “I’ve moved around a lot and I’d like to say in one spot for a while. But,” he added, “I won’t hesitate to leave if I need to. I won’t stay here with you holding this over my head, with the stress that any moment you’re going to loot through my stuff or drug me again. I’m not going to stay with this threat.” He voice was becoming more forced, stronger.

“What about a deal?”

Neil scoffed, eyebrow rising in amusement. “A deal?”

“Yes, a deal.”

“And what, oh wise one,” Neil leaned forward cockily, almost tauntingly “would this deal entail?”

“Two things. The first part would be a guarantee. I’ll stop digging through your stuff, drugging you, et cetera, et cetera, but,” he leaned forward too, his words breathed into his ear, “you stay.”

Neil shot back, brows hiding behind his bangs. ‘Why?”

Andrew shrugged carelessly “You’re interesting.” He said. As if it was obvious. As if it were simple.

Nothing in his life had ever been simple.

Neil didn’t know how to respond to that so he mentally shoved it aside for the time being. “What’s the second part?”

Andrew met his eyes, gaze unwavering. “Truth for a truth. Equals.”

“Truth for a truth?”

Andrew just looked at him.

Neil almost didn’t know he was speaking before the words escaped his lips.

“Fine.”

Andrew stared at him, before nodding. “I’ll go first. What are you hiding?”

He paused before looking around the room. He could see Wymack pacing in the kitchen and he knew Andrew had followed his gaze. “Not here. Somewhere private.”

He shrugged in a way that seemed to say fair enough.

Neil didn’t break eye contact with him as he shouted over his shoulder.

“We’re leaving Wymack. Thank you for everything.”

Andrew nodded and then led the way out the door.

***

All you have is your fire…

And the place you need to reach-

Don’t you ever tame your demons

But always keep ‘em on a leash