On The Streets

America!

Riff wiped the water off his mouth, it dripped down delicately onto his chest and shoulders, cooling him off in the heat. The water was almost as hot as the air but its refreshing properties made due to cool him off.

Mouthpiece however was sweating like a pig. He gulped down some water before growling and throwing it to the ground.

"Quit y'a drama." Riff rolled his eyes.

"I'm hot, really damn hot." He complained, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry pal, ain't my type."

"Are you serious-"

"Alright alright," Tony interjected, laughing a bit. "We're all tired. Let's go home."

Riff shifted uncomfortably but didn't argue. He rarely argued.

Everyone else however murmured words of agreement and hightailed it out of there. Everyone was tired and wanted to go home really. Riff shouldered his backpack and faltered in his step.

"Are y'a sure we don't wanna hit the new diner?" He said.

Tony groaned, "sorry Riff, I'm really tired. Another night."

Riff just nodded and started walking home. Taking the longest route, with the shortest pace, and even a break in between, however, it wasn't long enough for he was there in no time.

He stared up at the complex building, peering over him, and made his way up. It was easy to get up the fire escapes but it was taxing considering he was on the top floor.

He quickly climbed the last ladder and there he was. With lax hands, he opened it up, slowly, carefully, and quietly.

He poked his head inside of it, quickly looking around, a hand was strewed on the ground in the living room. He frowned, climbing in to get a closer look.

His dad, not for the first time, was lying across the floor, out cold. Broken beer bottle in his hand. Riff reached over and felt for his pulse to make sure he wasn't dead before removing his hand and grabbing dry cool clothes from the closet. He quickly changed, reminiscing in the soft, cotton fabric, letting himself be swallowed into it.

He looked into the fridge for anything other than alcohol, finding nothing, so he popped open a beer and drank it for something to fill his stomach. He wiped his mouth and stumbled off.

Riff opened the closet and smoothed out his blanket and pillow, lying down on his blanket because of the hot weather.

He sat awake for a while, just staring at the marks and scrubs on the walls, the stains he left there, and the chips developed over time, but the lull of sleep was too strong and he became its victim.

Riff himself never woke up, but he was quickly aroused by his dad shaking his entire body. He snapped his eyes open and shouted in surprise.

His dad stood over him venomously, with bared fangs like a shark.

"What are you doin here."

Riff blanched at the question, "well, I uh- I live here."

"Don't give me tongue!"

"I'm sorry!" Riff shouted, and shrank back, away from the arms.

His dad sighed and backed up, "I meant I never saw you come in."

"You were knocked out cold."

The anger was back, though it was never gone for long. "I was napping, you calling me a drunk?"

"No," Riff whispered, "no I'm sorry."

His dad scoffed, "get out of here."

Riff nodded, blanked out.