Left To Die

Chapter One

Stop!

In case you have not realized this is a boyxboy story! If you don't wish to continue please don't. I won't accept any negative comments about it.

Without further ado then....

It's the cold that first wakes Riley up.

He draws in a drowning gasp of cold air, the freezing temperatures bringing a shock to his system that causes his whole body to lurch forward, convinced of unseen danger. The woolen blanket he used throughout the night slips off his shoulders, pools around his stiff legs and snags onto something. Trapped, he rips it free and tosses it onto his two companions. Two other boys curl beside him, still wrapped up and asleep. Glass and Nicky; leftover survivalist like Riley, street trash like the thousands of other kids lingering around the forgotten streets. Not that Glass and Nicky are kids anymore - Riley thinks twenties, but it isn't as if he's actually ever asked.

He coughs, pressing a hand against his mouth in an attempt to muffle the harsh sounds. He doesn't want to risk accidentiently waking Glass up. For a pretty laid back guy he values his beauty sleep and he can get rather irritated when rudely woken up.

(He's pulled back in time. A warm, red hand dragging Glass out of sleep. Glass's anger and grief. Penny.

She never had a chance to begin with.)

Nicky flings an arm out, nearly clocking Riley in the face. He grimaces, pulls away from the boy and stretches his limbs out. It's difficult not to trip over them, the only light pushing past the make-shift streamers Glass had hung up. Glass doesn't like the light, he makes a point to block it out of every hide-out they manage to find and curls into himself, tight, for good measure.

He doesn't have to worry about Nicky. That boy sleeps through anything. He sleeps just as wild - limbs sprayed out in an abandoned fashion, mouth half-open to let silent snores out and an old bomber jacket tangled between his neck and shoulder, meant as a pillow, but kicked away at some point during the night. The jacket is something old, a gift from a life Nicky doesn't talk about. Riley doesn't care - it isn't as if he talks about his old life too.

It's a taboo subject, relieving those olds days with one another. It doesn't stop Riley from remembering. The feel of his mother's thumb sweeping across his cheek, a warm sort of pressure, when she was still a real girl; the sound of his father's heartbeat when he curled into him, a steady thump th-ump thump, when it still beat within his chest. But it isn't good to remember those days. His mother hasn't been a real girl in a very long time and his father had gone cold long ago.

Remembering those times makes Riley want to disappear and there's only one way he knows how to do that.

Slightly disoriented, he goes to his bag. It sits up against the wall, patched together with duct tape and silver pins. A school bag, the only thing left from a life long ago. Was he in school once? He can't seem to recall. At least, he can't remember anything past the sneering faces of his classmates and the concerned tones of teachers who only want to help you, Riley. These are difficult times, Riley.

Bullshit.

He rifles through the pockets, grunting happily when he finds the treasure within. A ziplock bag with five, rounded white pills nestled inside. He uses a sharp nail to cut the seal open and grabs one - only ever one - before popping it under his tongue. The bag holds other things, stuff actually needed for the three boy's continued survival. An extra set of clothes for all of them, two crumpled granola bars, three bottles of water and two precious twenties rolled up in a clean pair of socks. The money will last them for another week or two if they stretch it, long enough for Glass to think up another scheme or for Nicky to get sticky fingers.