The Stepfather (MxM) ✓

Chapter 3

It was around an hour later that I realised that I had overreacted. 

I actually shot myself in the foot a little, consider I had parkoured away from my problems (okay, edgelord) and conned myself out of somewhere to rest for a while.

But, then again, I was jetlagged. I could completely blame my emotional outbursts from the day on that. Which, yeah okay, was a load of bullshit.

Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe I should have stuck it out back home, or at least tried to go somewhere else. I know I didn't have a lot of people that would willingly have me crash on their couch, but surely I would have made something work for a few nights.

It was a bit late for that kind of realisation, considering that I had gotten here with a one way ticket. So I just had to deal with the consequences of my actions.

It got dark a lot more quickly than I expected it to, the last dregs of sunlight disappearing over the horizon. Briefly considering walking back the way I came, I decided against it. It would have been like returning like a bad puppy, and I sure as shit didn't want to deal with the fault out of that right now.

Taking a few left turns, I ended up down a smaller street that contained a couple of high-rise flats and a partially broken sign that blinked continuously as it advertised a twenty-four hour shop.

The street wasn't exactly an alley, it was too wide. Unless alleyways were just wide in Florida.

Point being, it wasn't somewhere where you would feel comfortable strolling through late at night. But did I ever pay attention to red flags like that?

When I saw a group of people at the end of the not-alley, I didn't feel nervous. But the shouting coming from them? That made me nervous. The closer I got, the more I saw. The group were in a circle around something.

Shit. Was that something a someone?

As any sane, and yet completely selfish, person would do, I kept my head down and tried to walk past without any attention being drawn to me.

But, evidently, I just had to get it.

"Person!" a rather frantic voice yelled from the centre of the group, causing the members of the group to turn around and look at me. "Help!"

I could have continued to walk, pretend that I hadn't heard a damn thing. I was so, so tempted.

But it was something about the person's call for help that made me stop in my tracks, hands still in pockets. Okay, we were doing this.

I turned to the group.

"Everything alright here, guys?" I paused, nodding at the two women, "gals and all in between." No one said that girls couldn't be involved in a sketchy looking group. I was careful to keep my tone casual, non confrontational - standing confidently enough that they knew I didn't want to be fucked with.

"None of your business," was the ridiculously clichéd and gruff response I got.

"Right," I agreed with a small nod, keeping my hands shoved firmly into my pockets and stance casual as I took one or two steps forward, peering in at the person who had called for help. A guy, with a hand currently around his throat. "So why did Squeaky feel the need to ask me for help?" I was digging myself into a hole, really, but it was too late to back out. But, at times, my mouth could run away with itself and land me in a hell of more trouble than I'd planned.

"If you knew what was good for you, you would fuck right off," one of the more skinny individuals replied in a voice that was surprisingly deep considering how small he was.