next in line, pt. 3 - short story
Next In Line
Part 3
by Nihilism
part 1 part 2
Leech manages five days. Five whole fucking days of the insanity of being part of a family. Five days of Nick's reminiscing, his morose nostalgia. Five days of trying to put his life's story in a good (or at least palatable) light. The actual light of those five days was, of course, the time spent with his little brother. Kellen surprised him each day with how well they can get along, and moreover, how much he cares for the kid after having known him for such a short amount of time. It's an unprecedented friendship, as Leech has never gotten close to anyone without at least a few months of building up to it, but he thinks the 'brother' thing may have something to do with that. Still, the time spent together barely balances out the time spent apart; Kellen at school and Leech left at 'home' with his 'father.'
That fateful fifth day, a Saturday, a call comes on Leech's cell phone. His boss, with a dire emergency. One of the children who is supposed to have been back home in California by now has been found hiding out down in the basement of the old castle-like building in which he's employed.
The school that Leech works for is a Catholic reform school. He signed on only two years ago, and has no real teaching experience; therefore his position is mostly administrative. However, his name won't be found on any payroll or any of the books he keeps; his position is mostly administrative, but involves nefarious ulterior motives as well. His primary function at the school is punishment. With the Catholic Church having such given itself such a stigma about pedophilia and molestation, it was decided that Leech would handle all of the firmer punishments. The teacher-priests were still allowed to dole out detentions and assign lines, but any students in the boarding school caught fighting, doing or dealing drugs, having illicit sex or otherwise breaking the expansive rules and sinning like the terrible sinners they are, are sent to Leech. The Leech-Pit, as the students have come to ominously refer to it, is in the lowest, underground level of the school.
He also fills after-class time with guitar, piano, and drama lessons, but this does not stop the majority of adolescents from fearing him and pinning him with a multitude of nefarious titles, the kindest of which may be 'Dean of Discipline.'
However, not all of the children have disdain for this youngest member of the staff. The student that had stayed behind for the summer holiday is one who has become, despite Leech's best efforts to the contrary, quite attached to the 'Dean.' And the only way to get him where he is supposed to be is to get Leech to convince him to go.
This emergency is not the only catastrophe to have dropped itself onto Leech's path recently. Kellen had not come home from school yesterday and has yet to show up, though it is nearing noon when the call from Leech's boss arrives. Nick sits at his usual place at the kitchen table, already drinking. Possibly drunker and angrier for every moment that passes without Kellen's appearance. Since he hadn't packed much in the first place, Leech joins Nick before long, more than ready to say good-bye to him. He may also be biding time so that he can say good-bye to Kellen; but he's certainly pretending that the boy's elongated absence doesn't worry him. Both incidents are problems more in the minds of the authority figures involved than anywhere else, he believes.
Dropping his bag, laptop and guitar case near the table, Leech slumps into an open chair across the table from his father, stating flatly. "So."
"So, you're outta here, hey?" Nick finishes the sentence for him.
"It appears that way," Leech agrees.
"No chance you might come back once you clear up - all 'a that stuff?" The man tries to sound casual, and nearly accomplishes it.
Leech shrugs and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Sometime, maybe. There's other shit I need'a take care of, back home…drugs to do, guys to fuck, you know."
Ignoring the obvious attempt to make him uncomfortable, Nick nods understandingly. "Well, it was good, havin' you around. I'll give Kellen your regards."
"Thanks," Leech says flatly, meanwhile cursing his father for giving him no reason to stay and wait longer for Kellen to come back. "He's a good kid." Nick snorts eloquently, but Leech persists. "Really. Ya should'a seen me when I was his age. Findin' a little bag of pot in his bedroom would be a good day."
"That does sound like a good day," Kellen's voice suddenly emanates from the front hall. The boy himself follows it, into the kitchen. "Ya got any?"
His words - faintly inebriated sounding, or perhaps just exhausted - are for Leech, as is his gaze, but it's Nick who answers. "Where the hell have you been?"
"With Jimmy," Kellen answers, as if this should've been obvious, and avoids his father's glare.
Nick does not seem to think this casual remark signals the end of the discussion, and rises from his chair. "Jimmy," he scoffs the name. "So I guess you were too high to think about calling home, then, letting me know you were gonna be gone all damn night?"
Kellen tilts his head, considering the question. "Well…no, I wasn't that high. I just figured, y'know, you'd be passed out, or at a bar, or drunkenly screwing some skank, so I didn'-"
Kellen's words are suddenly cut off by the large, bruise-knuckled hand that crashes into the left side of his face. His head whips to the side with the force of the slap, but he doesn't seem surprised - judging from his expression, he expected the action. He may even take a bit of pride in evoking it. Leech, however, is quite surprised, and unhappy enough about it that he's out of his chair now, too. "C'mon, Nick. No need for hands on."
Nick, fully in his twisted parental element now, turns to look at Leech instead. "You think you can just come in here and take over because'a who you are? Don't try to tell me how to raise my son."
"Right, cuz ya did so great with the first one," Kellen beats Leech to the obvious sarcastic response. Leech wishes he hadn't. The hand that connects with the boy's jaw this time is fisted, and the force of it sends Kellen onto his ass, on the polished hardwood floor.
Before Leech even notices himself reaching back, the .38 is sliding out of its place in his belt and then it is in his hand. It becomes leveled at Nick's chest. Kellen is already pulling himself up from the floor, and Nick is already getting ready to put him back down, so Leech draws attention to himself with a steel-structured tone, perfected over the last two years of making unwilling adolescents pay attention and slaked in a self-destructive lifestyle before that. "Nick. Back off."
Nick glances to the side, and he registers Leech, even registers the handgun. He doesn't seem all that concerned however, he opens his mouth - maybe to retort, maybe to laugh - but then gets a look at his eldest son's eyes. The steel in his voice is reflected in the blue there and he steps back. Not following orders so much as reacting to the threat those eyes hold like the big, dumb animal every human being is at heart. Leech is calm as he can be under the circumstances. He gives Kellen a glance - the boy is staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face, but Leech is only glad to see him steady on his feet - before flicking his gaze back to his father. He never does lower his aim.
"Kellen, go upstairs. Needa talk to 'Dad' fer a minute," Leech suggests with his tone casual as it can be. Kellen nods, spends another second or two staring before following the directions.
Once the boy is out of arms' reach, Leech does lower the gun, motioning with the muzzle to the chair Nick was previously occupying. Nick moves back into his seat carefully, his hands now held up in a gesture of surrender which is made null when Leech replaces the firearm to his belt, relieved to be rid of its unusual weight. He, too, reclaims his seat. Father and son watch each other for a moment heavy and lengthened by tension.
"You really would've shot me," Nick states, sounding completely sober all of a sudden.
"Yes," Leech admits. "I would have."
"You could kill your own father?" It isn't so much a question as an expression of disbelief, but Leech shakes his head, eyes narrowed emphatically.
"Couldn't kill anyone," he argues, though that is not specifically true - he just hasn't yet been put in that situation. "But, could make damn sure ya don' spawn any more kids to smack around."
"He was out of line!"
"He's right," there's a disbelieving laugh in his voice. "Ya did great with me, really, an' he's shapin' up to be just as much a shining star under yer influence."
Nick opens his mouth to argue, but then simply shakes his head before dropping it into open palms. And Leech thinks, oh shit, because he knows this action is a portent of an impending, self-pitying monologue. Of which he's heard many in the past five days. He really should have left earlier.
"I just," Nick starts, and Leech's fears are thus confirmed. "I dunno what to do with the kid anymore, y'know? When he was little, we were buds. We'd hang out in the garage, watch racing, and ball games. Then he hits puberty and all of a sudden I've got this person in my house I don't even know. And with his mom gone…the divorce, the cost of the shop…Jaysus, Lee. It's like this great heavy weight's come down all in a couple years."
"You don't got no one to blame but yerself," Leech refuses to give in or offer any sympathy. "And ya sure as fuck oughta fuckin' know better ways to handle it than that."
Lifting his head from those hands as though it weighs a great deal more than average, Nick looks balefully towards the man across the table - yet another person in his house that he doesn't know. "He doesn't listen to me anymore. He doesn't listen to anyone, just…does whatever the hell he wants, then throws it in my face. Won't even try to make excuses. Like he's trying to punish me."
"Maybe he is," Leech allows. "Maybe it's all he knows how to do, all ya've taught him. Kids're easy to break, Nick. Ya stop payin' attention to the way you act around 'em, er the way ya treat 'em for a while and ya end up with a situation like this. An' he ain't like one'a yer bikes. Can't jus' order a new part, er rewire somethin'."
"The hell do you know about it, anyway," Nick sniffs, dismissing the sagacious comment, and Leech laughs.
"I used ta be a broken kid, too, remember?" Leech reminds him, though there is no blame in his voice this time. "How about this - ever try 'talking' to him when he ain't done something wrong? Or mebbe, try listening to him instead?"
"Doesn't talk to me anymore, either," Nick retorts, and Leech can tell that this conversation is going nowhere.
"Fine," he surrenders. "So what're you gunna do about it? His ma won't take him, as I heard it. 'parently you can't communicate with him. Jus' gunna watch him slip farther and farther away, hopin' that some day you'll hit him hard enough he'll get brain damage and become a vegetable ya can finally be proud of?"
Ignoring the acidic bite to the younger man's tone, Nick responds helplessly. "I've thought about military academies…"
The idea is immediately dismissed with a head shake. "You'd send off a potential druggie an' get back a violent, brainwashed time-bomb. Kids like Kellen don' assimilate well. Try again."
"Boarding school?" Nick intones more hopefully, as if Leech already knows the answer to this riddle and has given him only three guesses. And perhaps Leech does know, but he hasn't fully admitted it to himself, much less is about to offer the solution to his father. He shrugs carelessly.
"Take a chance with those," he tells him knowledgably. "Some might do arrite, some might turn him worse…some might make him empty."
This last option offered carries a hollow tone, suggesting that Leech knows all too well about the condition. Nick watches him wonderingly, his mind, perpetually muddled from those constantly imbibed poisons, working slowly over what he knows of his first son's life. It takes him a moment, but he gets there eventually. "Your school."
"What about it?" Leech feigns ignorance.
"What if I sent him there? Is it a decent place?"
"Fuck no," comes the vehement reply. "This place is the last stop before juvie for most'a these kids, an' they act like it. They toe the line every fuckin' day. And it's contagious; he'd catch it just steppin' into his dorm the first day. Besides them, ya got the priests, lookin' to 'cleanse' children through any means necessary. I ain't just talkin' The Exorcist, neither. They're shameless, soulless bastards. The headmaster doesn't pay a fuckin' iota of attention, and most of the teachers there, are only there cuz they can't get anywhere respectable to hire 'em."
Nick's shoulders slump, his eyes fall to the tabletop again. His three guesses have come and gone, he did not find the answer. So he lifts his beer bottle and takes a long swig. Leech waits what he feels is an appropriate amount of time before reneging, slowly, on his condemnation. He learned this manipulative art at the hands of a master, but never has had much chance to use it.
"But y'know…we do got some kids that jus' come during the day. Don't gotta show up fer Mass in the morning, don' gotta stick around fer prayer group; the priests can't get to 'em much. They only have contact with the other kids during classes, lunch - other monitored times like that…" Probably sensing the catch coming, Nick once again raises his gaze to the other side of the table. And it arrives as soon as he makes eye contact. "…but that'd mean commuting all the way back and forth every day. Pretty long drive, and the weather does get wicked up there durin' the winter."
Readopting his baleful, helpless look from earlier, Nick sighs. "So do I have to beg you? Pay you off? What?"
Freezing in the process of scratching at his unwashed Mohawk, Leech arches a well-maintained eyebrow. "Was?"
Nick probably doesn't understand the German, but the tone is enough for him. "What do I gotta do to get you to take him?"
"Take him? Kellen? Ya mean, ya want me - some guy ya don't know at all, to remind ya, some guy that really doesn't like ya all that much - to jus, take yer son, and ride off into the sunset?" Leech inquires, adopting a tone of incredulousness. Those drama lessons after school may have been doing him some good, too, but Nick isn't buying it this time.
"You don't like me, but you like him," he points out. "I'm not as dumb as I look - I know you haven't been here all week because you've forgiven me everything and really want to form a lasting bond. And I know ya think leaving him here with me is worse than whatever happens to him in your capable hands."
Smirking in appreciation for the sarcasm in that last sentence, Leech leans back in his chair and continues scratching at his scalp as he pretends to consider the offer. Nick likewise pretends not to anxiously await a response. He must know that Leech isn't leaving here without his brother, but he does understand that this is one more thing Leech can pin him down with, and if past conversations are any indication, his first 'failed' offspring enjoys watching him squirm once he's pinned.
Mohawk sufficiently de-itched for the time being, Leech sets his elbows, folds his hands on the table, leans forward, and offers a grin showing far too many teeth. "How much's it worth fer you to have him gone?"
It would be a bald lie if Kellen were to say he didn't listen to at least part of their conversation from the top landing of the stairs. But Kellen has lied before, so when Leech makes his way up those stairs a bit later, the boy simply pretends he's been licking his wounds the entire time. The set up is quite complete; there is a boy on the bed when Leech opens the door, a boy who stops off rubbing at the bruise forming on his sharply defined jaw line to peer pitifully at the visitor, there is pathetic pop-punk music playing on the stereo, the lights are all off except for a single candle lit on the nightstand. Leech is duly impressed with the tragic tableau presented for him, and thinks that Hollywood would be much more successful if the agents plucked their starlets and budding directors from the teenagers he knows.
Closing the door behind him, Leech paces to the bed, offering a bag of frozen vegetables towards Kellen. Taking them, he sits up against his headboard and wraps the bag in a nearby t-shirt, to dull the chill, before pressing it to the aching left half of his face. Tilting his head in a gesture of concern, Leech asks. "How's that doin'?"
Kellen shrugs a shoulder. "Had worse. Doesn't mean it feels great, though."
"Expected as much," Leech admits, settling on the edge of the bed nearby. "This sorta shit start with the drinking, or…?"
"Mostly," the injured one responds. "I mean, he spanked us as kids, normal shit like that, but…nothin' serious, 'til lately. And never to Keiran, of course."
"Well, I doubt Keiran ever stayed out all night with her boyfriend without calling home to lie sufficiently first," Leech offers along with a smirk.
"Jimmy's not my boyfriend!" Thus comes the immediate rebuttal.
Pale blue eyes widen innocently. "I didn' say he was. Jus' makin a comparison. Got a reason to be so defensive 'bout it?"
Kellen rolls his eyes and sits back. "So you're leaving? I noticed your shit's all relocated or…been stolen."
After the first night, Leech had fully moved out of the scary yellow room and across the hall into Kellen's, so his guitar, laptop, and other necessities had come with him. Currently, they're residing downstairs in the kitchen where he'd laid them before, thinking he was headed back to work. Biting at his lower lip guiltily, he nods. "Boss called earlier, got a situation with one'a the kids I gotta go deal with."
"But…school's out. Aren't the kids gone?"
"All except one," he informs Kellen. "Apparently he intentionally missed his flight, caught a cab back to the school and snuck in the back way. He's been hangin' out in my rooms downstairs. Doesn' wanna go home to his parents."
"Smart kid," Kellen grins. "Why do you have to deal with it?"
Leech sighs, a bit embarrassed. "Well, cuz of he don' like any of the priests or teachers that live at the school full-time, so they can't talk him out, and he's got plenty of food an' weed to last him a while so…he's not comin' out until he can talk to me, instead. An' I'm the only one with keys to get in there at him, besides. Must'a fergot to lock up 'fore I left."
"Ahh," there's a note of taunting understanding in Kellen's tone. "Sounds like you have yourself an admirer."
"Stalker, more like," Leech mutters. "Anyway, I oughta be off soon, so…pack yer shit."
Kellen arranges his features into a convincing mask of confusion. "What?"
"C'mon, don' make me repeat it, I know you were listening to most'a that," Leech tells him wearily. "Yer comin' with me."
"I only missed how much he's payin' ya," Kellen gives up the charade easily, and the hint of a grin returns to his features.
"We didn' settle on a figure jus' yet, gotta have a trial period to see how much yer worth first" Leech tells him seriously, but then winks. "But some'a my overdue bills might be getting forwarded from the post office."
"Least he could do, forcing you to put up with my useless self," there isn't a lot of conviction in the statement, which Leech is glad to hear. "We gotta go right now?"
He turns, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, then considers. "I guess it wouldn' really give the right message, to give into the kid's demands right away. Why? Ya really wanna hang out here any longer?"
"No," Kellen amends hastily. "But, I kinda wanted to let a few people know I'm leaving…and I gotta pack everything up."
Giving the room a quick once-over, Leech mentally calculates how much of it will fit in his small apartment in Boston. "Maybe not, everything," he tells the boy. "This isn't the most well thought out plan'a all time, see…my place is pretty small. Lease is up soon, though, I'll find something with a second bedroom then. Fer now, just bring the necessities, yeh?"
He receives a nod in response. "Not much I really need, here, anyway."
"Not much of it'll fit in my car," he adds. "Speakin' of, ya want me to take ya to see these people you need to let know yer headed out, er would that be too embarrassing?"
With a bright grin that maybe warms the remaining pieces of Leech's black and shattered heart, Kellen shakes his head. "Why'd I be embarrassed of you?
Leech decides to take a shower before they head out - his head is really itchy, which is usually the thing that signals a shower day - and, since Kellen is napping when he dries off and returns for clean clothes, he takes his time in dressing and re-doing the hairstyle so that it can begin itching all over again, three days from now. Once he decides he looks suitable enough to impress Kellen's friends, he returns to the boy's soon-to-be-vacated bedroom to regretfully wake him up. Unlike Leech himself, Kellen proves to be a heavy sleeper and Leech has to shake him vigorously before the boy comes to. After he is woken, though, he regains his usual energy as if he'd had a full night's sleep instead of three-quarters of an hour. Leech takes a moment to envy youth.
Cruising out of the suburbs and into the heart of Trenton, the pair of brothers take a detour around the impressively ritzy downtown area and, at Kellen's direction, find a more derelict area of the city; a place where Leech feels infinitely more at home immediately. He is not familiar with this particular part of New Jersey; the only Jersey residents he knows dwell in lower-class Jersey City, but the dilapidated buildings and smell of garbage left too long in dumpsters reminds him of home nonetheless. He is careful to park his car, which is not so at home among the beat-up Civics and tricked-out low-riders, stowing it away behind a strip mall that ends in a box canyon of back doors, and setting the alarm. Following Kellen's lead, they make their way down the sidewalk past a few early-evening hookers and late-afternoon junkies who've yet to pass out and finally to an apartment building that was built with efficiency and not architecture in mind.
Rather than enter through the front of the stark, square structure, however, Kellen leads the way around back. Not bothering to ask why Leech again follows Kellen's black denim-clad ass, this time up a rusted fire escape to the second floor where he ducks his fluffy head through a window that is either perpetually open, or has been broken out. Straightening once inside the dim room, Leech gauges the place to be what Boston real estate calls a 'studio' apartment - which translates to one small room and a bathroom, not even a refrigerator provided - and spots the only occupant slumped on a bare mattress, staring a television. The television is not plugged in.
Thankfully, the boy on the bed breaks his zombie-like stare before Leech can get too concerned, glancing up at Kellen and offering a crooked grin in greeting. His voice, when it comes, sounds like his throat is as rusted and sharp and unsanitary as an old tin can. "Hey, kiddo. What's the news?"
The figure pulls himself to his feet and steps off the mattress as Kellen responds. "Hey, Jimmy. Actually, there is…some news."
'Jimmy,' who towers quite a ways above both of them once standing, seems to notice Leech's presence for the first time, and cants his shaved head curiously. "Guess so," that tetanus voice replies, looking the newcomer over. "Ya part of a clonin' experiment back in the day or something, Kell?"
"Nah," Kellen replies, shaking his head for emphasis, and then stepping over a low coffee table to settle himself on a precarious second-hand couch. "Remember I told ya 'bout my brother being in town? Leech? This's Leech."
"An' so this is Jimmy," Leech finishes the introduction himself, offering a hand. Jimmy closes the distance between himself and Leech, from one corner of the room to the other, in two long strides. He takes Leech's offered hand as affirmative, a loose grip, and Leech releases it as quickly as possible. His face doesn't betray the internal shudder that signals his sudden desire to get much, much farther away from the man - definitely a man, he sees now, not a boy - but his gut clenches tightly.
Because Jimmy's hand is thin, wasted, as are his gaunt visage and lanky limbs. His eyes are still somewhat unfocused, even as they meet Leech's, and he's glad when the man looks away. Jimmy looks sick, and it's a sickness Leech recognizes. It's a disease he doesn't want anywhere near his brother; a shockingly strong protective urge that takes him by surprise, but that's exactly where Jimmy ends up: on the opposite side of the couch on which Kellen sits. Leech chooses to remain standing; chooses to stay close to the window exit.
"So…news?" Jimmy queries, looking over at Kellen, and Leech is almost amazed that he held onto the train of thought for that long.
"Yeah…" Kellen begins, regret already lacing his tone. He tries to hide the emotion behind a tougher one, and more cursing. "My fuckin' asshole of a Dad kinda…kicked me out? Not really, I guess, but he, y'know, doesn't want my ass 'round anymore, so I'm goin' to stay with Leech."
"Oh," Jimmy's bleary gaze returns to Leech's silhouette, as if sizing him up. "Guess that's cool fer you, huh? That guy's a dick."
Leech shifts on his feet uncomfortably and scratches at the back of his neck, the urge to just get out of this place becoming stronger by the moment. He would like to relay his severe discomfort to Kellen, but Kellen isn't looking at him, instead watching the man next to him cautiously. Jimmy seems unaware of the attention, hunting through an ashtray on the table for a smokeable butt.
"Yeah, that part is fuckin' rad," Kellen agrees. "But…Leech doesn't live here. I mean, he lives in Boston. So, I won't be around for a while."
At this, Jimmy's head snaps up surprisingly fast, defying all of his other lackadaisical mannerisms. Leech imagines his eyes sharpen, too, but he can't actually see them from here. He's simply basing his guesses on past experience with people suffering from the same sickness as this man.
"You're leaving?" Jimmy asks, and the voice, at least, is certainly more defined.
Kellen nods in response, shifting some where he sits. "Yeah, man, I mean…I got no fuckin' choice. He doesn't want me around."
"Ya got a fucking choice, Kell," Jimmy argues. He's given up his cigarette hunt by now, his stare intent on Kellen; Kellen trying not to balk under it. "You know you're always welcome here."
"I know," Kellen hastens to assure the man. He had feared Jimmy might get angry about this, but he knew he'd be much angrier if Kellen left without letting him know first. "But it's, all already arranged, I'm gonna go to the boarding school Leech works at, but I'll be living with him, y'know, instead of at the school…it's not like my dad's gonna cut all ties, still gotta have some fuckin' power over me, jus -"
"Fuck this," Jimmy interrupts him, waving irritably in Leech's direction. "You known this guy, what, a month? Two? An' your dad don't really know him either, does he? But he's just sendin' ya off with him. Could be a fuckin' child molestor for all you know. But you know me."
Leech grits his teeth together, but refrains from interrupting the conversation. For now. "Jimmy, it's not like I'm making a choice, here," Kellen insists, his voice stronger. "Besides, he's my brother. He's not gonna do anything to me."
"Oh, yeah, your brother," Jimmy mimics in a falsetto. "Brother doesn't mean shit, kid. 's your own father that's throwin' ya out, isn't it? What makes ya think he's any better? Could be he fuckin' convinced yer pops to send ya off with him. Could be he ain't even really your brother."
Turning his somewhat jaundiced eyes towards Leech, Jimmy looks him over once again, sneering this time. Leech returns the look as passively as possible, and although he would like to use the same intimidation tactics on this man as he did on Nick earlier, he fears that Jimmy might call his bluff, or worse, meet him with the same.
"There was a DNA test and everything, so -" Kellen begins again, but this time it's Leech who interrupts, stepping forward and hoping to end this useless argument soon. Before something worse happens.
"Look, Jimmy?" He keeps his voice calm, despite the mixer of distasteful emotions and bile in his stomach. "I appreciate that yer so concerned about Kellen's welfare, really. I'd promise you he'll be fine with me, but I know ya won't believe me anyways. But the fact'a the matter is his father, the person that's got legal custody of him, has made the decision that he come with me - however he came to that decision, Kellen has to abide by it. 'cuz he's a minor, you realize that, right? That means if he doesn' follow this plan his dad's set down, then he's gunna be called a runaway. The cops'll be called. An' someone might have to let 'em know where this runaway can be found, if that happens. Ya catchin' on, here?"
"What, that some sorta threat, Leech? 'm I supposed to be scared, now?" Jimmy stands up again, to make his superior height apparent, looking rather threatening himself in spite of his sticklike figure. But Leech shakes his head in response.
"It's not a threat. It's an explanation. Nick made a decision. Kellen's in my care, now. I understand you're his friend, and I don't want to restrict him from seeing his friends, but if you're going to get angry with him about things he has no choice but to do, and threaten me with violence, then I may have to do just that," Leech carefully enunciates each word, something he rarely and most commonly does when he's holding back a lot of violent intent of his own. "Cuz I care about his welfare, too, and I don't want him around angry, violent people that might hurt him."
Leech isn't entirely sure Jimmy's even considering what he's saying. The man's grinding his teeth together, judging by the movement of his jaw, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Just when Leech thinks that none of his short monologue got through to the man, Jimmy makes a sudden movement, but rather than attacking anyone, Jimmy instead buries a fist into the shoddily made wall. Leech watches as Jimmy turns his back, pacing away from the couch.
Kellen is refusing to meet anyone's eyes, instead staring at the floor intently the way a small child who is trying to ignore his parents' shouting match might do. He's had practice. Despite his strong desire not to be any further inside this place, Leech takes a couple steps towards Kellen, enough that he is able to reach out to rest a consoling hand on his shoulder. But the boy still keeps his eyes on the ground.
After a few, long moments of pregnant silence, Jimmy turns around. He no longer looks as intense as he did, nor is he back to the blank-eyed state. He returns to the couch and slumps onto it particularly heavily for a person with such a scant frame. "Shit, I'm sorry, Kell. I jus…I don't want ya to leave, I dunno how to deal with it when you just throw it at me like that."
"It's all right, dude," Kellen assures him, and Leech isn't surprised that the boy accepts the sudden mood swing fluidly. "It is shitty, that ya won't be around up there. But it ain't like I'm disappearing forever, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jimmy agrees dully. "Guess you're prolly headed out pretty quick, huh?"
"As soon as I get packed," Kellen affirms. "I would've given ya more warning, but I didn't have any myself."
"Well…good luck over there, kid. Boston's an all right place, I guess."
"I spent most'a my childhood near there, I know it pretty well," Kellen sounds strangely comforting, as if he really does believe Jimmy cares about his welfare. Leech wonders if, somehow, the guy does. It isn't impossible, he reasons, and hopes for Kellen's sake that it is true.
Standing for the third time, Jimmy reaches down to grab the boy's hand and pulls him up into a fierce hug. Kellen hugs back just as tightly. Leech almost thinks about considering the possibility of maybe feeling a little bad about his predisposition towards the man because of his 'sickness,' but dismisses the idea before it has much time to form. Looking over the boy's shoulder, Jimmy locks eyes with Leech. "You better take care of him, 'cuz I'll fuckin' kill you if anything happens to 'im."
It's not a threat lightly given, but Leech responds to it lightly anyway. "Wouldn't have to. Anything happens to him, I'll take care of that job myself."
This seems to reassure the man and his emaciated arms retreat from around Kellen, and Kellen's arms do the same a second later. The boy bites at his lower lip, peering up at Jimmy with an expression one might wear when choosing whether to burst out laughing with a mouthful of liquid, or trying to choke it back. Finally, he just murmurs quietly, not only a little hopeless. "You take care of yourself, too."
"Always do," Jimmy asserts, which Leech doubts very much. He isn't about to stick around to argue his point, though - he's already got one foot out the window.
This time he leads the way, down the fire escape and back towards the alley where his car is parked. Kellen can see the line of tension in his brother's shoulders; though he never really noticed how graceful Leech's movements typically are he definitely notes the lack of grace now. Once they've crossed the street and left the dull building and diseased man behind them, Leech manages to rein his anger in enough to speak in a level tone.
"Could'a mentioned he was a fuckin' junkie, Kellen."
"I…didn't realize it mattered," Kellen lies. Of course it matters, it's always mattered, but he did not know Leech would be so offended by it.
They cross another, smaller street and enter into the alley, Leech lapsing into silence again until they come upon the car. But rather than rounding to the drivers' side door, he reaches out to grasp Kellen's left arm, a touch too tight, but nothing that will hurt him. He tugs on that arm, forcing his brother to face him and meet his eyes which are once again cold and hard. "That better not be what you meant when ya told Nick you were high this afternoon. That had better fuckin' not be a situation I gotta deal with."
Again, Kellen's shocked by the almost vicious note in Leech's low voice, but he manages to shake his head quick enough to appease Leech, whose grasp on the boy's bicep loosens some. "I don't - I wouldn't ever do that. Seen what it does to him."
"Well…guess I have ta be a little bit grateful for him, in that case," Leech replies, his words still tense, but tinted with relief as well. He hesitates, almost wanting to apologize for handling the situation so badly, or for handling Kellen so roughly, but figures it was warranted in this particular case.
Releasing that arm, he keeps his eyes locked with the swirl of blue and green in the others, long enough and intently enough that Kellen becomes aware that Leech has a vendetta against heroin addicts for a very personal and intimate reason, although the kid doesn't know exactly what that reason may be. Almost on instinct, as he comes to this realization, Kellen breaks the eye contact to step forward and grips Leech's wiry frame in an embrace easily as fierce as the one he shared with Jimmy moments earlier. He is not certain why it was such an important thing to do at that moment; it was not sympathy for the reasons he doesn't know and it isn't appreciation for Leech's volatile manner of concern. No matter the reason, he's relieved that Leech's arms encircle him in return without hesitation and he drops his head, forehead resting against a prominent collarbone. With an inward sigh, Leech realizes that keeping Kellen, being his primary caretaker, is going to be a lot harder than he initially thought. He does not regret his decision, though.
Part 3
by Nihilism
part 1 part 2
Leech manages five days. Five whole fucking days of the insanity of being part of a family. Five days of Nick's reminiscing, his morose nostalgia. Five days of trying to put his life's story in a good (or at least palatable) light. The actual light of those five days was, of course, the time spent with his little brother. Kellen surprised him each day with how well they can get along, and moreover, how much he cares for the kid after having known him for such a short amount of time. It's an unprecedented friendship, as Leech has never gotten close to anyone without at least a few months of building up to it, but he thinks the 'brother' thing may have something to do with that. Still, the time spent together barely balances out the time spent apart; Kellen at school and Leech left at 'home' with his 'father.'
That fateful fifth day, a Saturday, a call comes on Leech's cell phone. His boss, with a dire emergency. One of the children who is supposed to have been back home in California by now has been found hiding out down in the basement of the old castle-like building in which he's employed.
The school that Leech works for is a Catholic reform school. He signed on only two years ago, and has no real teaching experience; therefore his position is mostly administrative. However, his name won't be found on any payroll or any of the books he keeps; his position is mostly administrative, but involves nefarious ulterior motives as well. His primary function at the school is punishment. With the Catholic Church having such given itself such a stigma about pedophilia and molestation, it was decided that Leech would handle all of the firmer punishments. The teacher-priests were still allowed to dole out detentions and assign lines, but any students in the boarding school caught fighting, doing or dealing drugs, having illicit sex or otherwise breaking the expansive rules and sinning like the terrible sinners they are, are sent to Leech. The Leech-Pit, as the students have come to ominously refer to it, is in the lowest, underground level of the school.
He also fills after-class time with guitar, piano, and drama lessons, but this does not stop the majority of adolescents from fearing him and pinning him with a multitude of nefarious titles, the kindest of which may be 'Dean of Discipline.'
However, not all of the children have disdain for this youngest member of the staff. The student that had stayed behind for the summer holiday is one who has become, despite Leech's best efforts to the contrary, quite attached to the 'Dean.' And the only way to get him where he is supposed to be is to get Leech to convince him to go.
This emergency is not the only catastrophe to have dropped itself onto Leech's path recently. Kellen had not come home from school yesterday and has yet to show up, though it is nearing noon when the call from Leech's boss arrives. Nick sits at his usual place at the kitchen table, already drinking. Possibly drunker and angrier for every moment that passes without Kellen's appearance. Since he hadn't packed much in the first place, Leech joins Nick before long, more than ready to say good-bye to him. He may also be biding time so that he can say good-bye to Kellen; but he's certainly pretending that the boy's elongated absence doesn't worry him. Both incidents are problems more in the minds of the authority figures involved than anywhere else, he believes.
Dropping his bag, laptop and guitar case near the table, Leech slumps into an open chair across the table from his father, stating flatly. "So."
"So, you're outta here, hey?" Nick finishes the sentence for him.
"It appears that way," Leech agrees.
"No chance you might come back once you clear up - all 'a that stuff?" The man tries to sound casual, and nearly accomplishes it.
Leech shrugs and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Sometime, maybe. There's other shit I need'a take care of, back home…drugs to do, guys to fuck, you know."
Ignoring the obvious attempt to make him uncomfortable, Nick nods understandingly. "Well, it was good, havin' you around. I'll give Kellen your regards."
"Thanks," Leech says flatly, meanwhile cursing his father for giving him no reason to stay and wait longer for Kellen to come back. "He's a good kid." Nick snorts eloquently, but Leech persists. "Really. Ya should'a seen me when I was his age. Findin' a little bag of pot in his bedroom would be a good day."
"That does sound like a good day," Kellen's voice suddenly emanates from the front hall. The boy himself follows it, into the kitchen. "Ya got any?"
His words - faintly inebriated sounding, or perhaps just exhausted - are for Leech, as is his gaze, but it's Nick who answers. "Where the hell have you been?"
"With Jimmy," Kellen answers, as if this should've been obvious, and avoids his father's glare.
Nick does not seem to think this casual remark signals the end of the discussion, and rises from his chair. "Jimmy," he scoffs the name. "So I guess you were too high to think about calling home, then, letting me know you were gonna be gone all damn night?"
Kellen tilts his head, considering the question. "Well…no, I wasn't that high. I just figured, y'know, you'd be passed out, or at a bar, or drunkenly screwing some skank, so I didn'-"
Kellen's words are suddenly cut off by the large, bruise-knuckled hand that crashes into the left side of his face. His head whips to the side with the force of the slap, but he doesn't seem surprised - judging from his expression, he expected the action. He may even take a bit of pride in evoking it. Leech, however, is quite surprised, and unhappy enough about it that he's out of his chair now, too. "C'mon, Nick. No need for hands on."
Nick, fully in his twisted parental element now, turns to look at Leech instead. "You think you can just come in here and take over because'a who you are? Don't try to tell me how to raise my son."
"Right, cuz ya did so great with the first one," Kellen beats Leech to the obvious sarcastic response. Leech wishes he hadn't. The hand that connects with the boy's jaw this time is fisted, and the force of it sends Kellen onto his ass, on the polished hardwood floor.
Before Leech even notices himself reaching back, the .38 is sliding out of its place in his belt and then it is in his hand. It becomes leveled at Nick's chest. Kellen is already pulling himself up from the floor, and Nick is already getting ready to put him back down, so Leech draws attention to himself with a steel-structured tone, perfected over the last two years of making unwilling adolescents pay attention and slaked in a self-destructive lifestyle before that. "Nick. Back off."
Nick glances to the side, and he registers Leech, even registers the handgun. He doesn't seem all that concerned however, he opens his mouth - maybe to retort, maybe to laugh - but then gets a look at his eldest son's eyes. The steel in his voice is reflected in the blue there and he steps back. Not following orders so much as reacting to the threat those eyes hold like the big, dumb animal every human being is at heart. Leech is calm as he can be under the circumstances. He gives Kellen a glance - the boy is staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face, but Leech is only glad to see him steady on his feet - before flicking his gaze back to his father. He never does lower his aim.
"Kellen, go upstairs. Needa talk to 'Dad' fer a minute," Leech suggests with his tone casual as it can be. Kellen nods, spends another second or two staring before following the directions.
Once the boy is out of arms' reach, Leech does lower the gun, motioning with the muzzle to the chair Nick was previously occupying. Nick moves back into his seat carefully, his hands now held up in a gesture of surrender which is made null when Leech replaces the firearm to his belt, relieved to be rid of its unusual weight. He, too, reclaims his seat. Father and son watch each other for a moment heavy and lengthened by tension.
"You really would've shot me," Nick states, sounding completely sober all of a sudden.
"Yes," Leech admits. "I would have."
"You could kill your own father?" It isn't so much a question as an expression of disbelief, but Leech shakes his head, eyes narrowed emphatically.
"Couldn't kill anyone," he argues, though that is not specifically true - he just hasn't yet been put in that situation. "But, could make damn sure ya don' spawn any more kids to smack around."
"He was out of line!"
"He's right," there's a disbelieving laugh in his voice. "Ya did great with me, really, an' he's shapin' up to be just as much a shining star under yer influence."
Nick opens his mouth to argue, but then simply shakes his head before dropping it into open palms. And Leech thinks, oh shit, because he knows this action is a portent of an impending, self-pitying monologue. Of which he's heard many in the past five days. He really should have left earlier.
"I just," Nick starts, and Leech's fears are thus confirmed. "I dunno what to do with the kid anymore, y'know? When he was little, we were buds. We'd hang out in the garage, watch racing, and ball games. Then he hits puberty and all of a sudden I've got this person in my house I don't even know. And with his mom gone…the divorce, the cost of the shop…Jaysus, Lee. It's like this great heavy weight's come down all in a couple years."
"You don't got no one to blame but yerself," Leech refuses to give in or offer any sympathy. "And ya sure as fuck oughta fuckin' know better ways to handle it than that."
Lifting his head from those hands as though it weighs a great deal more than average, Nick looks balefully towards the man across the table - yet another person in his house that he doesn't know. "He doesn't listen to me anymore. He doesn't listen to anyone, just…does whatever the hell he wants, then throws it in my face. Won't even try to make excuses. Like he's trying to punish me."
"Maybe he is," Leech allows. "Maybe it's all he knows how to do, all ya've taught him. Kids're easy to break, Nick. Ya stop payin' attention to the way you act around 'em, er the way ya treat 'em for a while and ya end up with a situation like this. An' he ain't like one'a yer bikes. Can't jus' order a new part, er rewire somethin'."
"The hell do you know about it, anyway," Nick sniffs, dismissing the sagacious comment, and Leech laughs.
"I used ta be a broken kid, too, remember?" Leech reminds him, though there is no blame in his voice this time. "How about this - ever try 'talking' to him when he ain't done something wrong? Or mebbe, try listening to him instead?"
"Doesn't talk to me anymore, either," Nick retorts, and Leech can tell that this conversation is going nowhere.
"Fine," he surrenders. "So what're you gunna do about it? His ma won't take him, as I heard it. 'parently you can't communicate with him. Jus' gunna watch him slip farther and farther away, hopin' that some day you'll hit him hard enough he'll get brain damage and become a vegetable ya can finally be proud of?"
Ignoring the acidic bite to the younger man's tone, Nick responds helplessly. "I've thought about military academies…"
The idea is immediately dismissed with a head shake. "You'd send off a potential druggie an' get back a violent, brainwashed time-bomb. Kids like Kellen don' assimilate well. Try again."
"Boarding school?" Nick intones more hopefully, as if Leech already knows the answer to this riddle and has given him only three guesses. And perhaps Leech does know, but he hasn't fully admitted it to himself, much less is about to offer the solution to his father. He shrugs carelessly.
"Take a chance with those," he tells him knowledgably. "Some might do arrite, some might turn him worse…some might make him empty."
This last option offered carries a hollow tone, suggesting that Leech knows all too well about the condition. Nick watches him wonderingly, his mind, perpetually muddled from those constantly imbibed poisons, working slowly over what he knows of his first son's life. It takes him a moment, but he gets there eventually. "Your school."
"What about it?" Leech feigns ignorance.
"What if I sent him there? Is it a decent place?"
"Fuck no," comes the vehement reply. "This place is the last stop before juvie for most'a these kids, an' they act like it. They toe the line every fuckin' day. And it's contagious; he'd catch it just steppin' into his dorm the first day. Besides them, ya got the priests, lookin' to 'cleanse' children through any means necessary. I ain't just talkin' The Exorcist, neither. They're shameless, soulless bastards. The headmaster doesn't pay a fuckin' iota of attention, and most of the teachers there, are only there cuz they can't get anywhere respectable to hire 'em."
Nick's shoulders slump, his eyes fall to the tabletop again. His three guesses have come and gone, he did not find the answer. So he lifts his beer bottle and takes a long swig. Leech waits what he feels is an appropriate amount of time before reneging, slowly, on his condemnation. He learned this manipulative art at the hands of a master, but never has had much chance to use it.
"But y'know…we do got some kids that jus' come during the day. Don't gotta show up fer Mass in the morning, don' gotta stick around fer prayer group; the priests can't get to 'em much. They only have contact with the other kids during classes, lunch - other monitored times like that…" Probably sensing the catch coming, Nick once again raises his gaze to the other side of the table. And it arrives as soon as he makes eye contact. "…but that'd mean commuting all the way back and forth every day. Pretty long drive, and the weather does get wicked up there durin' the winter."
Readopting his baleful, helpless look from earlier, Nick sighs. "So do I have to beg you? Pay you off? What?"
Freezing in the process of scratching at his unwashed Mohawk, Leech arches a well-maintained eyebrow. "Was?"
Nick probably doesn't understand the German, but the tone is enough for him. "What do I gotta do to get you to take him?"
"Take him? Kellen? Ya mean, ya want me - some guy ya don't know at all, to remind ya, some guy that really doesn't like ya all that much - to jus, take yer son, and ride off into the sunset?" Leech inquires, adopting a tone of incredulousness. Those drama lessons after school may have been doing him some good, too, but Nick isn't buying it this time.
"You don't like me, but you like him," he points out. "I'm not as dumb as I look - I know you haven't been here all week because you've forgiven me everything and really want to form a lasting bond. And I know ya think leaving him here with me is worse than whatever happens to him in your capable hands."
Smirking in appreciation for the sarcasm in that last sentence, Leech leans back in his chair and continues scratching at his scalp as he pretends to consider the offer. Nick likewise pretends not to anxiously await a response. He must know that Leech isn't leaving here without his brother, but he does understand that this is one more thing Leech can pin him down with, and if past conversations are any indication, his first 'failed' offspring enjoys watching him squirm once he's pinned.
Mohawk sufficiently de-itched for the time being, Leech sets his elbows, folds his hands on the table, leans forward, and offers a grin showing far too many teeth. "How much's it worth fer you to have him gone?"
It would be a bald lie if Kellen were to say he didn't listen to at least part of their conversation from the top landing of the stairs. But Kellen has lied before, so when Leech makes his way up those stairs a bit later, the boy simply pretends he's been licking his wounds the entire time. The set up is quite complete; there is a boy on the bed when Leech opens the door, a boy who stops off rubbing at the bruise forming on his sharply defined jaw line to peer pitifully at the visitor, there is pathetic pop-punk music playing on the stereo, the lights are all off except for a single candle lit on the nightstand. Leech is duly impressed with the tragic tableau presented for him, and thinks that Hollywood would be much more successful if the agents plucked their starlets and budding directors from the teenagers he knows.
Closing the door behind him, Leech paces to the bed, offering a bag of frozen vegetables towards Kellen. Taking them, he sits up against his headboard and wraps the bag in a nearby t-shirt, to dull the chill, before pressing it to the aching left half of his face. Tilting his head in a gesture of concern, Leech asks. "How's that doin'?"
Kellen shrugs a shoulder. "Had worse. Doesn't mean it feels great, though."
"Expected as much," Leech admits, settling on the edge of the bed nearby. "This sorta shit start with the drinking, or…?"
"Mostly," the injured one responds. "I mean, he spanked us as kids, normal shit like that, but…nothin' serious, 'til lately. And never to Keiran, of course."
"Well, I doubt Keiran ever stayed out all night with her boyfriend without calling home to lie sufficiently first," Leech offers along with a smirk.
"Jimmy's not my boyfriend!" Thus comes the immediate rebuttal.
Pale blue eyes widen innocently. "I didn' say he was. Jus' makin a comparison. Got a reason to be so defensive 'bout it?"
Kellen rolls his eyes and sits back. "So you're leaving? I noticed your shit's all relocated or…been stolen."
After the first night, Leech had fully moved out of the scary yellow room and across the hall into Kellen's, so his guitar, laptop, and other necessities had come with him. Currently, they're residing downstairs in the kitchen where he'd laid them before, thinking he was headed back to work. Biting at his lower lip guiltily, he nods. "Boss called earlier, got a situation with one'a the kids I gotta go deal with."
"But…school's out. Aren't the kids gone?"
"All except one," he informs Kellen. "Apparently he intentionally missed his flight, caught a cab back to the school and snuck in the back way. He's been hangin' out in my rooms downstairs. Doesn' wanna go home to his parents."
"Smart kid," Kellen grins. "Why do you have to deal with it?"
Leech sighs, a bit embarrassed. "Well, cuz of he don' like any of the priests or teachers that live at the school full-time, so they can't talk him out, and he's got plenty of food an' weed to last him a while so…he's not comin' out until he can talk to me, instead. An' I'm the only one with keys to get in there at him, besides. Must'a fergot to lock up 'fore I left."
"Ahh," there's a note of taunting understanding in Kellen's tone. "Sounds like you have yourself an admirer."
"Stalker, more like," Leech mutters. "Anyway, I oughta be off soon, so…pack yer shit."
Kellen arranges his features into a convincing mask of confusion. "What?"
"C'mon, don' make me repeat it, I know you were listening to most'a that," Leech tells him wearily. "Yer comin' with me."
"I only missed how much he's payin' ya," Kellen gives up the charade easily, and the hint of a grin returns to his features.
"We didn' settle on a figure jus' yet, gotta have a trial period to see how much yer worth first" Leech tells him seriously, but then winks. "But some'a my overdue bills might be getting forwarded from the post office."
"Least he could do, forcing you to put up with my useless self," there isn't a lot of conviction in the statement, which Leech is glad to hear. "We gotta go right now?"
He turns, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, then considers. "I guess it wouldn' really give the right message, to give into the kid's demands right away. Why? Ya really wanna hang out here any longer?"
"No," Kellen amends hastily. "But, I kinda wanted to let a few people know I'm leaving…and I gotta pack everything up."
Giving the room a quick once-over, Leech mentally calculates how much of it will fit in his small apartment in Boston. "Maybe not, everything," he tells the boy. "This isn't the most well thought out plan'a all time, see…my place is pretty small. Lease is up soon, though, I'll find something with a second bedroom then. Fer now, just bring the necessities, yeh?"
He receives a nod in response. "Not much I really need, here, anyway."
"Not much of it'll fit in my car," he adds. "Speakin' of, ya want me to take ya to see these people you need to let know yer headed out, er would that be too embarrassing?"
With a bright grin that maybe warms the remaining pieces of Leech's black and shattered heart, Kellen shakes his head. "Why'd I be embarrassed of you?
Leech decides to take a shower before they head out - his head is really itchy, which is usually the thing that signals a shower day - and, since Kellen is napping when he dries off and returns for clean clothes, he takes his time in dressing and re-doing the hairstyle so that it can begin itching all over again, three days from now. Once he decides he looks suitable enough to impress Kellen's friends, he returns to the boy's soon-to-be-vacated bedroom to regretfully wake him up. Unlike Leech himself, Kellen proves to be a heavy sleeper and Leech has to shake him vigorously before the boy comes to. After he is woken, though, he regains his usual energy as if he'd had a full night's sleep instead of three-quarters of an hour. Leech takes a moment to envy youth.
Cruising out of the suburbs and into the heart of Trenton, the pair of brothers take a detour around the impressively ritzy downtown area and, at Kellen's direction, find a more derelict area of the city; a place where Leech feels infinitely more at home immediately. He is not familiar with this particular part of New Jersey; the only Jersey residents he knows dwell in lower-class Jersey City, but the dilapidated buildings and smell of garbage left too long in dumpsters reminds him of home nonetheless. He is careful to park his car, which is not so at home among the beat-up Civics and tricked-out low-riders, stowing it away behind a strip mall that ends in a box canyon of back doors, and setting the alarm. Following Kellen's lead, they make their way down the sidewalk past a few early-evening hookers and late-afternoon junkies who've yet to pass out and finally to an apartment building that was built with efficiency and not architecture in mind.
Rather than enter through the front of the stark, square structure, however, Kellen leads the way around back. Not bothering to ask why Leech again follows Kellen's black denim-clad ass, this time up a rusted fire escape to the second floor where he ducks his fluffy head through a window that is either perpetually open, or has been broken out. Straightening once inside the dim room, Leech gauges the place to be what Boston real estate calls a 'studio' apartment - which translates to one small room and a bathroom, not even a refrigerator provided - and spots the only occupant slumped on a bare mattress, staring a television. The television is not plugged in.
Thankfully, the boy on the bed breaks his zombie-like stare before Leech can get too concerned, glancing up at Kellen and offering a crooked grin in greeting. His voice, when it comes, sounds like his throat is as rusted and sharp and unsanitary as an old tin can. "Hey, kiddo. What's the news?"
The figure pulls himself to his feet and steps off the mattress as Kellen responds. "Hey, Jimmy. Actually, there is…some news."
'Jimmy,' who towers quite a ways above both of them once standing, seems to notice Leech's presence for the first time, and cants his shaved head curiously. "Guess so," that tetanus voice replies, looking the newcomer over. "Ya part of a clonin' experiment back in the day or something, Kell?"
"Nah," Kellen replies, shaking his head for emphasis, and then stepping over a low coffee table to settle himself on a precarious second-hand couch. "Remember I told ya 'bout my brother being in town? Leech? This's Leech."
"An' so this is Jimmy," Leech finishes the introduction himself, offering a hand. Jimmy closes the distance between himself and Leech, from one corner of the room to the other, in two long strides. He takes Leech's offered hand as affirmative, a loose grip, and Leech releases it as quickly as possible. His face doesn't betray the internal shudder that signals his sudden desire to get much, much farther away from the man - definitely a man, he sees now, not a boy - but his gut clenches tightly.
Because Jimmy's hand is thin, wasted, as are his gaunt visage and lanky limbs. His eyes are still somewhat unfocused, even as they meet Leech's, and he's glad when the man looks away. Jimmy looks sick, and it's a sickness Leech recognizes. It's a disease he doesn't want anywhere near his brother; a shockingly strong protective urge that takes him by surprise, but that's exactly where Jimmy ends up: on the opposite side of the couch on which Kellen sits. Leech chooses to remain standing; chooses to stay close to the window exit.
"So…news?" Jimmy queries, looking over at Kellen, and Leech is almost amazed that he held onto the train of thought for that long.
"Yeah…" Kellen begins, regret already lacing his tone. He tries to hide the emotion behind a tougher one, and more cursing. "My fuckin' asshole of a Dad kinda…kicked me out? Not really, I guess, but he, y'know, doesn't want my ass 'round anymore, so I'm goin' to stay with Leech."
"Oh," Jimmy's bleary gaze returns to Leech's silhouette, as if sizing him up. "Guess that's cool fer you, huh? That guy's a dick."
Leech shifts on his feet uncomfortably and scratches at the back of his neck, the urge to just get out of this place becoming stronger by the moment. He would like to relay his severe discomfort to Kellen, but Kellen isn't looking at him, instead watching the man next to him cautiously. Jimmy seems unaware of the attention, hunting through an ashtray on the table for a smokeable butt.
"Yeah, that part is fuckin' rad," Kellen agrees. "But…Leech doesn't live here. I mean, he lives in Boston. So, I won't be around for a while."
At this, Jimmy's head snaps up surprisingly fast, defying all of his other lackadaisical mannerisms. Leech imagines his eyes sharpen, too, but he can't actually see them from here. He's simply basing his guesses on past experience with people suffering from the same sickness as this man.
"You're leaving?" Jimmy asks, and the voice, at least, is certainly more defined.
Kellen nods in response, shifting some where he sits. "Yeah, man, I mean…I got no fuckin' choice. He doesn't want me around."
"Ya got a fucking choice, Kell," Jimmy argues. He's given up his cigarette hunt by now, his stare intent on Kellen; Kellen trying not to balk under it. "You know you're always welcome here."
"I know," Kellen hastens to assure the man. He had feared Jimmy might get angry about this, but he knew he'd be much angrier if Kellen left without letting him know first. "But it's, all already arranged, I'm gonna go to the boarding school Leech works at, but I'll be living with him, y'know, instead of at the school…it's not like my dad's gonna cut all ties, still gotta have some fuckin' power over me, jus -"
"Fuck this," Jimmy interrupts him, waving irritably in Leech's direction. "You known this guy, what, a month? Two? An' your dad don't really know him either, does he? But he's just sendin' ya off with him. Could be a fuckin' child molestor for all you know. But you know me."
Leech grits his teeth together, but refrains from interrupting the conversation. For now. "Jimmy, it's not like I'm making a choice, here," Kellen insists, his voice stronger. "Besides, he's my brother. He's not gonna do anything to me."
"Oh, yeah, your brother," Jimmy mimics in a falsetto. "Brother doesn't mean shit, kid. 's your own father that's throwin' ya out, isn't it? What makes ya think he's any better? Could be he fuckin' convinced yer pops to send ya off with him. Could be he ain't even really your brother."
Turning his somewhat jaundiced eyes towards Leech, Jimmy looks him over once again, sneering this time. Leech returns the look as passively as possible, and although he would like to use the same intimidation tactics on this man as he did on Nick earlier, he fears that Jimmy might call his bluff, or worse, meet him with the same.
"There was a DNA test and everything, so -" Kellen begins again, but this time it's Leech who interrupts, stepping forward and hoping to end this useless argument soon. Before something worse happens.
"Look, Jimmy?" He keeps his voice calm, despite the mixer of distasteful emotions and bile in his stomach. "I appreciate that yer so concerned about Kellen's welfare, really. I'd promise you he'll be fine with me, but I know ya won't believe me anyways. But the fact'a the matter is his father, the person that's got legal custody of him, has made the decision that he come with me - however he came to that decision, Kellen has to abide by it. 'cuz he's a minor, you realize that, right? That means if he doesn' follow this plan his dad's set down, then he's gunna be called a runaway. The cops'll be called. An' someone might have to let 'em know where this runaway can be found, if that happens. Ya catchin' on, here?"
"What, that some sorta threat, Leech? 'm I supposed to be scared, now?" Jimmy stands up again, to make his superior height apparent, looking rather threatening himself in spite of his sticklike figure. But Leech shakes his head in response.
"It's not a threat. It's an explanation. Nick made a decision. Kellen's in my care, now. I understand you're his friend, and I don't want to restrict him from seeing his friends, but if you're going to get angry with him about things he has no choice but to do, and threaten me with violence, then I may have to do just that," Leech carefully enunciates each word, something he rarely and most commonly does when he's holding back a lot of violent intent of his own. "Cuz I care about his welfare, too, and I don't want him around angry, violent people that might hurt him."
Leech isn't entirely sure Jimmy's even considering what he's saying. The man's grinding his teeth together, judging by the movement of his jaw, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Just when Leech thinks that none of his short monologue got through to the man, Jimmy makes a sudden movement, but rather than attacking anyone, Jimmy instead buries a fist into the shoddily made wall. Leech watches as Jimmy turns his back, pacing away from the couch.
Kellen is refusing to meet anyone's eyes, instead staring at the floor intently the way a small child who is trying to ignore his parents' shouting match might do. He's had practice. Despite his strong desire not to be any further inside this place, Leech takes a couple steps towards Kellen, enough that he is able to reach out to rest a consoling hand on his shoulder. But the boy still keeps his eyes on the ground.
After a few, long moments of pregnant silence, Jimmy turns around. He no longer looks as intense as he did, nor is he back to the blank-eyed state. He returns to the couch and slumps onto it particularly heavily for a person with such a scant frame. "Shit, I'm sorry, Kell. I jus…I don't want ya to leave, I dunno how to deal with it when you just throw it at me like that."
"It's all right, dude," Kellen assures him, and Leech isn't surprised that the boy accepts the sudden mood swing fluidly. "It is shitty, that ya won't be around up there. But it ain't like I'm disappearing forever, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jimmy agrees dully. "Guess you're prolly headed out pretty quick, huh?"
"As soon as I get packed," Kellen affirms. "I would've given ya more warning, but I didn't have any myself."
"Well…good luck over there, kid. Boston's an all right place, I guess."
"I spent most'a my childhood near there, I know it pretty well," Kellen sounds strangely comforting, as if he really does believe Jimmy cares about his welfare. Leech wonders if, somehow, the guy does. It isn't impossible, he reasons, and hopes for Kellen's sake that it is true.
Standing for the third time, Jimmy reaches down to grab the boy's hand and pulls him up into a fierce hug. Kellen hugs back just as tightly. Leech almost thinks about considering the possibility of maybe feeling a little bad about his predisposition towards the man because of his 'sickness,' but dismisses the idea before it has much time to form. Looking over the boy's shoulder, Jimmy locks eyes with Leech. "You better take care of him, 'cuz I'll fuckin' kill you if anything happens to 'im."
It's not a threat lightly given, but Leech responds to it lightly anyway. "Wouldn't have to. Anything happens to him, I'll take care of that job myself."
This seems to reassure the man and his emaciated arms retreat from around Kellen, and Kellen's arms do the same a second later. The boy bites at his lower lip, peering up at Jimmy with an expression one might wear when choosing whether to burst out laughing with a mouthful of liquid, or trying to choke it back. Finally, he just murmurs quietly, not only a little hopeless. "You take care of yourself, too."
"Always do," Jimmy asserts, which Leech doubts very much. He isn't about to stick around to argue his point, though - he's already got one foot out the window.
This time he leads the way, down the fire escape and back towards the alley where his car is parked. Kellen can see the line of tension in his brother's shoulders; though he never really noticed how graceful Leech's movements typically are he definitely notes the lack of grace now. Once they've crossed the street and left the dull building and diseased man behind them, Leech manages to rein his anger in enough to speak in a level tone.
"Could'a mentioned he was a fuckin' junkie, Kellen."
"I…didn't realize it mattered," Kellen lies. Of course it matters, it's always mattered, but he did not know Leech would be so offended by it.
They cross another, smaller street and enter into the alley, Leech lapsing into silence again until they come upon the car. But rather than rounding to the drivers' side door, he reaches out to grasp Kellen's left arm, a touch too tight, but nothing that will hurt him. He tugs on that arm, forcing his brother to face him and meet his eyes which are once again cold and hard. "That better not be what you meant when ya told Nick you were high this afternoon. That had better fuckin' not be a situation I gotta deal with."
Again, Kellen's shocked by the almost vicious note in Leech's low voice, but he manages to shake his head quick enough to appease Leech, whose grasp on the boy's bicep loosens some. "I don't - I wouldn't ever do that. Seen what it does to him."
"Well…guess I have ta be a little bit grateful for him, in that case," Leech replies, his words still tense, but tinted with relief as well. He hesitates, almost wanting to apologize for handling the situation so badly, or for handling Kellen so roughly, but figures it was warranted in this particular case.
Releasing that arm, he keeps his eyes locked with the swirl of blue and green in the others, long enough and intently enough that Kellen becomes aware that Leech has a vendetta against heroin addicts for a very personal and intimate reason, although the kid doesn't know exactly what that reason may be. Almost on instinct, as he comes to this realization, Kellen breaks the eye contact to step forward and grips Leech's wiry frame in an embrace easily as fierce as the one he shared with Jimmy moments earlier. He is not certain why it was such an important thing to do at that moment; it was not sympathy for the reasons he doesn't know and it isn't appreciation for Leech's volatile manner of concern. No matter the reason, he's relieved that Leech's arms encircle him in return without hesitation and he drops his head, forehead resting against a prominent collarbone. With an inward sigh, Leech realizes that keeping Kellen, being his primary caretaker, is going to be a lot harder than he initially thought. He does not regret his decision, though.