Track 11; Moral of the Story by Ashe
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You had a love-hate relationship with Chicago. Not only was it the only city you had ever grown up in, the weather could vastly change within a second. Autumn and spring brought a mix of warm and cold fronts with usually sunny skies. Summers are warm and humid, leaving a sticky layer of sweat over your skin anytime you step outside. The winters were the worst in your opinion, there's almost always an overabundance of snow plus some negative degree weather. The wind that swept in off of Lake Michigan had a habit of making the city feel colder than Siberia, as well; like a giant razor blade blowing down the street.
So needless to say, you were almost desperate to make sure Inosuke wore all of his layers when he was outside.
You stood in the foyer of the orphanage. Dust particles from the rafters fall onto your beanie as the children who aren't old enough to go to school yet shriek and run around upstairs. For being in a "state of the art facility", the walls sure were crumbling around you. Inosuke is in front of you, emerald irises burning a hole into the ceiling above your head. You brush the dust off with a hand and finish buttoning up his undercoat. You finish your sisterly responsibilities by zipping up his overcoat and giving him a pat on the head. Even at 13 he struggled with the buttons and still did his damndest to fight you off when you took over for him. He attempts to sneakily hit you, but you block his incoming fist with your elbow. His fingers crack upon impact.
You'd respond with a smack to the back of his head and tell him: "you get sick, we get separated and I won't be able to protect you anymore."
He knew the rules, though: if he started to sweat he had to take some off. Seeing that the two of you were out the orphanage's doors as soon as school time came around and didn't show up until after the slop they served as dinner, if you weren't in school you were on the streets.
A boy who's roughly the same age as you elbows your rib cage when he slings his jacket over his shoulders. You and him aren't the only ones layering up in the foyer—at least a dozen others are stuffed into the cramped area. You cringe at the jab and rub at your side. Inosuke locks onto the interaction like a highly trained guard dog and turns to attack. Your grip on the front of his jacket blocks him from advancing any further. In order to prevent a scene from breaking out before the asscrack of dawn, you tighten your grip and haul him out the door. His "Hey!" of protest falls deaf on your ears.
You don't let go of him until you've reached the bottom of the shoveled and salted stairs out front. The lady who ran the place sure didn't care about you and the other kids, but at least her husband had the decency to make sure none of you slipped and cracked your head open during the winter. You let out a heavy sigh and adjust your backpack on your shoulders before turning and marching down the street. Most of the neighbors around here shoveled the sidewalks in front of their house. The others didn't, meaning the snow that was plowed off of the roads were now compacted and practically ice underneath your boots. Fortunately you had a knack for walking on icy pathways such as these and could get around without much struggle.
It helped having expensive winter boots you had smuggled out of the mall a few weeks ago after seeing the weatherman theorize the snowfall this year. You look back over your shoulder at your little brother as you walk down the road. He doesn't have 'skater legs' as he calls them, so his route of travel is a bit more unsteady than yours. That's why you'd gotten him a pair of boots, too.
"Slow down!" Inosuke griped from behind you.
"Haven't I told you a thousand times how to keep up with me?" You reply without a second of hesitation. "No wonder we're always late to school." You say it like you don't skip it in the first place to work.
"We're late to school because your stupid ass wants to stop by the corner shop for breakfast every morning." He shoots back as if what he says is an insult.
"If you'd rather eat the slop that old hag stews up on the regular then by all means have at it." You roll your eyes. "Don't come crying to me when you start spewing out both ends."
He doesn't say a word, but catches up to you.
Only a few more minutes go by when the two of you finally reach the shoveled part of the sidewalk. From there you just have five blocks before you reach Inosukes school. You don't look twice at it as you walk by. He gives it a glance but doesn't say anything. He hates that place anyway, so why would he bring it up?
Besides, there's something else that he wants to talk about.
"So...what happened last night?"
Thankful that your back is to him, your face scrunches tight and flushes with heat. You pull your left hand out of your pocket and wrap your scarf tighter around your face, making sure it conceals the lower half.
"There's nothing to talk about."
A devious grin crosses his face and he rushes to be in front of you. This forces you to slow down, but he proceeds to walk backwards so he can have a conversation with you.
"Then explain the fact that we got a ride home in a really nice car?" You open your mouth to shut him up, but it's useless. "And why you couldn't speak? Or stop staring? What was his name again? Diaper? Dracula? Diar—"
Inosuke's toe catches a patch of black ice after his foot is already mostly on the ground and he falls backwards, landing on his ass in front of you. You stop short of stepping on him, looking down and kicking his calf.
"That's what you get for asking too many questions that don't relate to your wellbeing."
You step around him and proceed on with your route. He is quick to jump back up to his feet despite his hard landing and catch up to you.
Only a few more minutes go by until the two of you are inside the warm corner store. There is a welcoming smell of freshly baked bread each morning. The shopkeep is a kind old Chicago native that gave you and Inosuke a hot meal for free when she caught you trying to steal the food from under the heat lamps. She'd always greet you with a "mornin, babies" plus a hearty breakfast and a lunch that would keep you full for what seemed like ages.
All she wanted in return? The neighborhood gossip.
You wave goodbye to her through the window as the door swings shut behind Inosuke. On your dominant wrist is a watch with broken glass that still works. It tells you that it's nearly Inosuke's start time. You already started school well over an hour ago, but you didn't give a damn.
"Shit." You snag Inosuke's wrist and start hauling him back down the sidewalk. "We gotta start leaving earlier in the morning so this stops happening."
You meant to say that in your head, but he heard you anyway. His complaint falls deaf on your ears. Your run instead of a walk shortens the travel time from 10 minutes to 7, cutting down gangways between buildings in order to make up for lost time. The two of you are breathless by the time you make it to the bottom of the front stairs. Inosuke throws a weak punch to your shoulder. You barely feel it, the watch says he's only 3 minutes late.
"Go. I'll be here when the day's over, like always."
"Yeah, yeah. Get lost." He scoffs and yanks his arm from your hand, stomping up the stairs and throwing open the door.
The second his dark mop of hair vanishes beyond the window, you turn and begin to march up the street. Instead of going straight and heading back towards the corner store at the end of the block, you turn right and follow the road for a good while until the road ends at a four way intersection with a light. You follow the path you have come to memorize by heart towards the public library. Only half of a mile more before you would reach your usual post: a bench far enough away from the library to not be considered loitering.
It's also half a block away from the transit center and a few businesses laying about. It meant lots of foot traffic. Today was exactly a week and a half until Christmas, which equaled tourists and natives returning for the holidays. You were geared up for the snow when it would begin to fall in a few hours, so you were optimistic about today's bounty.
You clear the snow off of half of the bench and pull out a folded up cardboard sign and a cleaned out cottage cheese container before you tuck your backpack underneath it. You place the sign in your lap and redo your scarf again, pulling your beanie down close to your eyebrows and throwing the hood of your winter jacket up as well. You needed every inch of protection you could get from the wind. Once you were more than prepared to hunker down, you carefully unfolded the sign and propped it up on the bench next to the container.
In the pocket next to your dominant hand was a twelve hole tenor ocarina. It was handcrafted by a glass worker in the festival market. Somehow, Inosuke had stolen it for you without being caught last year and gave it to you as a Christmas present. Not only did you pester the shit out of him with it whenever the opportunity arose, but it caused your donations to increase by tenfold once you figured out how to play. You practiced on it enough to memorize some songs in your sleep, so playing it quickly became second nature to you.
You played for what felt like ages, when realistically it was only an hour and a half by the time your fingers and toes were beginning to get cold. You'd made $11 so far. Despite your layering in order to avoid freezing, it was inevitable that you would have to pack your things up and head into the library for an hour or so to warm up. Your teeth were chattering by the time the skin that had been exposed to the cold began to burn. Your body felt ridiculously heavy and slow due to the temperature, even if you were packing up as fast as you could.
You felt a cold layer of sweat begin to break out on the back of your neck when you zipped up your backpack after placing all of your belongings inside. Just before you stood up, somebody dropped themselves onto the bench next to you and crammed in as close as they could. You nearly decapitated them with a karate chop of self defense when you recognized who it was.
"How did—"
"I knew you'd be here once you didn't show up to 3rd period." He replied bluntly.
"Kaz. I'm fine."
Akaza was...a handful to say the least. You'd met him your freshman year of high school, and for some reason the two of you had become attached at the hip. He had the weird ability of knowing what you were thinking before you did, and could read you like the back of his hand. There had been a few times where he'd snuck you and Inosuke through his bedroom window in order to avoid staying at the orphanage overnight for a multitude of reasons. He was the only one who could tolerate your demonic little brother and put up with your bullshit at the same time.
You had no idea why.
He was the only friend you had in Chicago.
"Kaz. I'm fine." He mocks you in a higher-pitched tone. "You know it's finals right now, right?"
"Who fucking cares?" You ask him seriously, rolling your eyes. "Education doesn't matter. I'm not going to college and leaving Inosuke by himself in that shithole. I can't work a full time job if I'm dealing with school."
He rolls his eyes and lets out a frustrated groan. "Begging on the corner by the library doesn't count as a full time job, (N/N)."
"Who asked you?" You answered saltily.
Despite his body heat leaking through the seams of your overcoat and warming you up slightly, you rose to your feet anyway and shrugged your backpack on. "Are you gonna stay here and freeze your dick off or are you coming with me to the library?"
His face was hidden beneath the umpteen scarves wrapped around his neck, though the glare in his gold eyes was hard to miss. "If I head back to the school property now I'll just get arrested for truancy."
"Sounds like a you-problem." You began to walk away, the tread of your boots catching traction on the compacted snow underneath you.
Only a second passed before he was shoulder to shoulder with you again, though this time he wasn't trying to fuse together like he had been when the two of you were sitting. Only a few more passed before he started speaking again.
"How was your first night at that new job you skipped school for?" His elbow comes as a jab and hits your bicep.
You stop in your tracks for a second to stare him and his audacity down and roll your eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it." You turn and walk ahead of him, pulling open the door to the library and trying to close it behind you before he could get in.
"Oooh." Akaza hums as he catches the door with his hand. "That means something happened, spill it."
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" You whispered your retort after stepping through the second set of doors. "How about you mind your own business,"
"(N/N), watch—" you weren't listening to him anymore.
"Before I stuff it up your—"
You must have a habit for colliding with people, or maybe you're just a magnet for trouble. You should really start paying better attention to your surroundings. Just like the previous night, you crash into someone while you aren't paying attention. Fortunately instead of dishes, it's only books that fall from his arms this time.
You take a slow deep inhale and can feel your heart in the back of your throat. As a survival tactic, the only thing you have enough power to do is look up through your eyelashes. Coincidentally, you found yourself face to face with the same person you had ran into last night.
"Is this your way of hitting on me?"
You nearly miss what he says, lost in multicolored eyes. Then suddenly your senses snapback. Feeling too dumb to speak, you quickly shake your head no.
"Ah, so you're just clumsy, yeah?"
More like I have no sense of self-preservation, but sure.
All you could do was nod gently.
Behind you, you could hear Akaza let out a nervous, yet stressful chuckle. "You know this guy?"
"Sure does!"
You don't realize what happened until you're suddenly facing your friend again. An arm settles on your shoulders and you feel yourself involuntarily melt or stiffen up, you can't tell which happened first to be honest.
"We're coworkers." He finishes the statement like it's obvious. "And you?"
The venom in his tone went right over your head. Akaza picked up on it quickly, and his features softened. He didn't know anything about this guy except for the multitude of red flags hanging from his back like a cape.
"Just a friend."
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~evixtus