Battery City Boys

Watching the car drive away, Frank realized how late it was. He also realized how exciting the day had been, and looked back to his brother.

"So, ready to get going, kiddo?"

Adrian nodded, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. He got onto the back of the motorcycle, and waited for Frank to get on.

Frank got onto the front of the beast of a bike, and turned on the engine. He looked back to the younger boy.

"Get your helmet on, kid. I ain't driving your ass to the hospital if we crash."

Adrian rolled his eyes, but pulled on the helmet he'd been given so long ago. Once it was on securely, Adrian held onto the waist of his older brother, and they were off, driving onto the small apartment building they were holding up in.

The ride was short, but it felt like a lifetime. Frank was thinking about the strange men they had met that day, and how different they were, but how they all seemed to work well together. He had thought about the offer, and had agreed to think about it more once they got 'home'. The ride to the building wasn't too long, mostly due to the fact that the brothers didn't want to travel too far away from the safehouse. The distance was a safe one, and reminded Frank of the serial killer psychology.

Not too far from their safe area, but not close enough to be found easily.

They were just like honeybees.

Once they had reached their safehouse, Frank pulled into the small and hidden alleyway, stopping the bike under the fire escape they frequently climbed. Frank let his brother climb up first, then followed close behind, watching for any creeps in white masks that might stalk them below.

Adrian, when he reached the top, waited for his older brother. Once Frank had joined him on the rusted balcony, they grabbed for the base of the window, and with a heave, they managed to open it.

Frank, again, let his brother go first. Handing the bags over to the younger boy, Frank pulled himself into the small apartment/safehouse. Once inside, Frank turned and closed the window, covering its secrets with the moth-bitten blanket they had found a while back.

Once he was pleased with the coverage, Frank looked around the place, to make sure nothing was thrown about. The two boys had left one day, then came back to an absolute trash hole. They learned quickly to cover their tracks.

Therefore, they didn't keep much. They had a few candle stubs, here and there, along with the occasional item, that Adrian, (or Frank, for that matter), just HAD to have.

Well, to be fair and honest, they had managed to scrape up quite a bit.

Frank's first (and probably last) guitar sat in the corner, its Pansy logo smudged and torn from the constant weather. (Adrian, thankfully, later found a guitar case that wasn't completely destroyed, and gave it to his brother).

Frank only needed a few things.

His guitar, some food, a few guitar picks, and the random sweet that Adrian would somehow manage to whip up out of nowhere. Without his brother, Frank's life would be boring, to say the least.

Looking over to the more, "interesting", side of the apartment, Frank watched as his brother placed his items on the island of the kitchen.

It was Adrian's "place", to put things he found "interesting". The "interesting" items were:

A broken snowglobe of the statue of liberty, found at a small mini mart, a set of keys, covered in grime and rust, (Frank seriously didn't know why he kept them), a stuffed elephant, abandoned at Central Park, most likely by a young child, and now, a small keepsake box, with a plastic cover in the middle of it. The insides appeared to hold a (fake, but pretty) sunflower. Frank looked at his brother, and saw him smile fondly at his new treasure.

All of these items were carried by Adrian, whenever they left to go somewhere else. Frank knew better than to argue, so he let him bring his keepsakes around. He only hoped that they would find a more permanent place to settle, that way Adrian could have more pretty things.

Which leads to the conversation from earlier.

Leaving his baby brother to his own thoughts, Frank walked over to his guitar, and after putting his bag down, sat next to his things. He ran a hand through his hair, as he recalled the conversation. He thought for a while, about if he should trust these men. They seemed nice, and Adrian didn't close himself off in a coccoon, like he usually did, so that had to count for something, right? He decided that they would talk about it more in the morning. Or, really, he would talk, and Adrian would either nod or shake his head.

Frank shrugged, then called over to the quiet child.

"Kiddo, we should get some shut-eye. It's been a long day, and I need to use the sleep, don't ya agree?"

Adrian shrugged, pointed at him, silently laughing his ass off. Frank was confused.

"What? What did I say?"

Adrian reached for his whiteboard, but his hand only met dirty clothes and trinkets. Turning towards his bag in a worried matter, Adrian moved around and even tossed items out of his bag. Sadly, the whiteboard was missing, leaving nothing but a few dried up markers.

Frank saw his brother moving around frantically, trying to find his lost possession. Alas, he would never find it, having left it at the cornerstore, after hiding from the masked men.

Walking over to his brother, Frank pulled him into a hug, and began to pet his hair down, in a soothing manner. After a few moments of pure panic, Adrian had calmed down. Once he was sure of it, Frank let the boy go, and held his shoulders.

"It's okay, baby-bro. I can always find something at a gas station, or even a diner. You know waiters and waitresses, they always have paper and pens. I bet there's some at any of these joints. Just, try to get some sleep, okay? We can head out early, if you want, and we can look around a bit. Sound good to you?"

Adrian held back a shaky breath, then quickly nodded. Frank walked back to his little slice of heaven, and laid down on the cold floor, watching with droopy eyes and a racing mind, as his brother picked up his small treasures, and he fell asleep.

He didn't hear the snapping of wood.

Notes

Whaaaaa? I'm leaving you on a cliff-hanger? What kind of animalistic writer does that?!?

*Stares at Moffat and Kripke*

Anyways, question of the Day/Night:

What's your favorite color(s)?

Mind would have to be lilac, red, and the color of the morpho peleides butterfly. (Pretty, pretty blue).

Anyways, leave your comments and criticism in the comment section below!

Until we meet again,

Sweet Horrors And Terrible Nightmares,
XOXO
Screaming Tears
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