I'll Protect You (Re-Edit #2, 2016)

Introducing Flynn Darkwood, the boy who ran away

"You killed somebody on the streets?" Sophia squeaked, and in the rearview mirror, I could see her staring at Flynn with blue eyes popping out of her sockets as she recoiled in her seat. 

"I'm kidding," Flynn snorted. "I killed them in an alleyway to avoid being arrested for homicide."

"Flynn," I interrupted and he laughed, glancing at Sophia in the mirror, his smile never fading. 

"I'm seriously joking, Sophia," he said. "Maybe I did beat them unconscious and pushed their sleeping bodies into a ditch because they pissed me off, but I swear I'm not a homicidal maniac."

"I say that's up for debate," Zen said under his breath. 

"Shut it, Li," Flynn called out. "Don't want to be terrorizing the newbie here, do we?"

"That option's gone out the door," I sighed. He laughed as he cut someone off again, ignoring the yell directed his way, but Flynn didn't have a care for such words. He continued on driving, his fingers drumming on the wheel until we were on the streets. 

We all tried asking Flynn questions (except for Sophia, who paled every time Flynn spoke), but he was content with crescendoing the volume of his humming so that he blocked out our voices. The only true responses he gave was  when he turned up the heater after our constant pestering for warmth, and when he confessed that he had persuaded the driver to grab something inside the airport before pick pocketing his keys and driving away with the taxi. 

After what seemed like an eternity in the car, he pulled up to the curb and the locks clicked open. I took a quick glance outside. Flynn had parked besides an apartment building that I recognized to be his home. The last time I had been here, I had been fifteen and the weather had been a lot nicer. 

"Aren't you coming with us?" I asked when I noticed that Flynn hadn't turned off the engine of the car. Instead, he pulled off the long string tucked around his neck and placed the object into my hand. Tied onto the string was a key. 

"I have to find a place to ditch this cab," Flynn explained. "If you don't remember, my place is on the fifth floor, the one closest to the elevator." He folded my fingers over the string. "Don't open the door for anyone unless it's me. I'd hate to tell your brother you died because you couldn't grasp the concept of 'stranger danger.'

I nodded and got out of the car. "Bye, stranger," I sang, shutting the door. 

"You can feed yourselves then," he replied without missing a beat before flooring it away from us.

We hurried into the building, drying our shoes as best as we could by the door before crowding into the elevator. I pressed the button for the fifth floor and half a minute later, the doors opened and we stepped off, stopping by the door closest to the elevator. 

When I slid the key into the lock,  the door opened with ease and we stepped in, feeling the warmth of his studio wash over us. A wave of memories flooded me as we headed further into the spacious apartment. Flynn was a minimalist, and three years had brought no change. There was a sleek black television facing the neat little kitchen by the door, and a black sofa was pushed against the wall by the windows of the apartment. It was a brightly lit place, but it was empty, lacking furnishing and decoration. Even the kitchen, spotless and tidy, carried only a coffee machine and a bag of chips on the counter. There were no dishes in the sink nor were there any in the black drying rack by the faucet. 

Luckily for him, Flynn hadn't gone through with his plan of converting the floors to carpet, so our steps created puddles without deep stains. Our bags were tossed onto the ground and I dropped the key onto the kitchen counter while pulling off my jacket, spreading it on the only chair that was worn down by use.