four alarm fire // matty healy

Arsehole

It was dark on the road now. My hand had already snuck across Ace's lap once or twice. On the third time, he didn't move it away. I wondered what he was thinking as he staying still beneath my fingers. His eyes were stoney.

He kept driving through the night, the only way I could see my hand was through the lights from passing vehicles, but they were few and far between. Ace removed one hand's right grip on the wheel and put it on top of mine.

Nimble fingers unzipped his fly. Who did that? Ace pulled over on a dirt shoulder.

"Fuck," he said when I touched his skin. His head lolled back against the headrest. He exhaled, "Fuck, Miya."

I froze in place, still holding him, resisting the urge to squeeze my hand into a fist. Instead, I let go. Ace lifted his head again and looked at me from the driver's side. His expression didn't change when he did his zipper and turning on the engine again.

We didn't say anything after that, he just kept driving instead. From my seat, I crawled into the backseat of the Fiat. I opened Ace's bag again and took a sweater to curl up in and placed the gold watch back in it's side pocket. I used his pink scrapbook as a pillow. Before drifting off, I saw a sign said that we weren't that far away from home, but very far away from Matty. Was I going the right direction?

The long and short of it was: no.

But I snuggled into Ace's sweatshirt and pretended I was.

I couldn't tell how long I slept, but when I woke up, it was daytime. My sore neck craned up to see where we were.

"We're twenty minutes away from the city. I can let you out anytime." I met his green eyes in the rear view mirror. The landscape grew more familiar as agriculture land grew into a cityscape.

"Let me out near Stratford," was what I wanted to say. Instead I waited until I was close to a train station and mumbled a measly 'here'. Before leaving the car, I placed the pink scrapbook on the passenger seat. Then I stepped out into traffic and walked towards the station across the street. It took him a moment to leave. I never looked back to check, but I heard his engine eventually rev to life and drive away.

Then I was alone in a crowd of people on the train. It really hit me that I was going to go home. I didn't even know what I was going to say. Or what I would do after I would talk to Uncle.

I was untrustworthy to him now. What do you do with untrustworthy people? Let Ron take care of them. I found an empty seat on the train and fell asleep against the glass pane. The city passed by my sleepy eyes at a rapid speed.

The bell tolled and my stomach did a flip flop. The train lurched to a stop. My stop. My last stop.

My feet seemed to glide across the tiled floor to the exit. I didn't feel much of anything as I walked to the bushes that held the stolen bikes. The bushes were empty, but there was a scooter sitting without a lock on the bike rack, so I took it instead.

I rode until I reached the edge of the Den's driveway. The building loomed over me, dark and ominous, like it was keeping a secret from me. I kicked the scooter to the side and stomped up to the front door. I held my hand up to knock, then lowered it.

I pushed the door open. The handle felt loose in my hand. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness inside the Den. Trembling, I took a few steps forward, but stayed in the shadows on the outside edge of the floor. My back was up against the wall, and I shuffled along it quietly. Normally a low murmur could be heard from all corners of the Den; people were always whispering about things that other people weren't supposed to know about.

But it felt empty. Deafening.

Until a creak startled me. It came from the metal catwalk above, which caused my head to jolt upwards.

"You shouldn't be here," Isaac warned. "Uncle's already looking for your head on a silver platter."

"Where is he? I have to tell him I'm out." He started to round the corner and he met me at the bottom of the stairs. I was now stomping towards our room while Isaac chased after me.

"'Out'? What do you mean 'out'?" Now that he was closer to me I could see that he was in a panic. My bag sat on my bed as I stuffed me belongings into it. Clothes, books, the ripped pages from my wall.

"I mean I'm not going to stay here anymore."

"Shut the fuck up." I lifted a corner of my mattress and grabbed whatever weed I had leftover from various Days and deals. I hauled the full bag over my shoulder and met Isaac's hard stare.

"Get out of my way," I spat. He and I were a mere inches away from each other, almost ready to fight like when we were kids. However, he let me step to the side and pass him without conflict. I laughed over my shoulder, my brother, defeated.

"Hope you enjoy kissing Uncle's arse." I muttered obscenities all the way down the hall until I reached the main floor of the Den.

My feet froze in place as a chilly breeze swept across my neck. I stopped and scanned the room around me. It seemed as if it was still dark and abandoned.

I kept my footsteps quiet, but I heard the mimic of another boots steps in the Den. Dress shoes?

Padding across the floor, I was so close to the exit. I didn't care who was here with me, I just needed to get out before it was too late. I raised my hand to the doorknob but I was only met with a harsh slap from the darkness.