Mine, Yours, And Ours [BXB] (18+) |DISCONTINUED|

Chapter VIII- Yours

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Crow: Hey everyone, hope you all have had an amazing weekend! Love you all so much, stay hydrated!
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Alright then, lets go." I answered, walking down the hallway. The warehouse seemed to have been already emptied, except for
four other people:

Jason

Charles

Braden

And...

Becky

Derek's POV

I stiffened, my hackles rising upon seeing Brunnett Bitch herself.
"What the fuck is she doing here?! When I said bring the crew and meet me here, I didn't say 'Bring our child hood bully.'" I growled, feeling more hostile and aggressive than usual since I was worried for Wren.

Braden stepped forwards, his hands raised defensively.
"Dude, chill. Becky isn't the same as she used to be. She's changed, and she said that she wants to help."

I glared venomously at Becky, gritting my teeth as I struggled to suppress my rage.
"Is this true?" I asked, shifting Wren's limp form in my arms.

Becky nodded silently, glancing uncertainty at Braden who gave her a small, reassuring smile.

My left eye twitched with irritation but I ignored it.
"Fine!" I snapped. "Let's just get out of here. Both Kiwi and Wren need some instant medical attention and they can't get that if we stand here pointlessly bickering. But I'm warning you, Becky, if you harm Wren in any way, I will be at your throat with a knife if an instant. Understood?"

Becky nodded in response, though she looked reasonably paller than before.
A quiet chuckle sounded from behind the group and I turned, not recognizing the voice.

There, standing behind Ace, was a person that I had never seen before. He looked to be around Wren's age, so around twenty three. They had brown hair that was pulled into a low ponytail, and slightly innocent hazel eyes that hid behind a pair of glasses. They wore a baggy hoodie that seemed to be hiding a frail frame, ripped jeans, and Converses, that all had dirt stains on them.

I raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Who's this?" I asked, slightly annoyed that they had brought yet another person along with consulting first with me.

"I'm Bax." Answered the boy cooly, with a blank expression on his face. I blinked, not sure what to think of this new person. They seemed cool, but had a slightly haughty tone of voice. I shrugged it off, dismissing it.
"Whatever. Let's get out of here before Crayne and his goons come back."

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The nine of us piled into a van that Becky, Ace, Jason, and everyone else had taken to get here. I sat in the back with Wren and Kiwi, Wren's limp head resting in my lap as he slept on peacefully, his face looking even paler and slimmer than usual, which worried me.

His closed eyes were deeply shadowed and purple, almost looking bruised with lack of sleep. His once soft pink lips were chapped and dried out, proving his dehydration. His blue hair had lost it's usual sheen, and now looked limp and greasy. His pale body was alarmingly light and frail, looking like a peice of fragile glass that could shatter during the next light breeze. I brushed a few stray locks out of his face, kissing his clammy forehead.

Kiwi too, looked deeply malnutritioned. His long green hair was tangled and dull, his clothes were very wrinkled and hanging off of his skinny frame. His face was covered in multiple bruises and cuts, and his skin had developed a sheen that was almost as green as his hair.

My eyes drifted over the green haired man's body, suddenly locking on to his side. The clothing there was distinctly darker than usual. I touched it and it was slick with blood, making me panic internally.

SHIT-

I grabbed Kiwi's shirt and as gently as I could, took it off of him. I then ripped off my own shirt, wadding it up into a ball and pressing it against the oozing wound to slow the blood flow. It seemed vaguely recent, so I figured that however was in the room at the time must have heard us coming and stabbed him in attempt to eliminate the witnesses.

I quickly checked Kiwi's pulse, letting out a quiet sigh of relief once I knew that his heart was still beating, though slightly fainter than usual.

"Hey guys?" I called out to the front of the van, trying to hide the tone of panic from my voice.
"Got any bandages that I could use?"

Brandon looked over at me, then paling upon seeing Kiwi's state.
"Shit- yeah, hang on..." He answered, rummaging around in a nearby bag. He pulled out a first aid kit, from which he gathered up some gauze and long strands of bandages.

I grabbed it from him and started to wrap Kiwi's pale torso up. When I'd finnished, I sat back, letting out a loud sigh of relief. I stared at my trembling hands and fingers, which were coated in Kiwi's scarlette blood.

Will I ever be able to just live a peaceful life?

Crayne's POV
The past

A young boy, perhaps around seven, sat on a couch, watching the TV. His big, soft eyes were dark and beautiful, like a young cow calf. Right now, they were transfixed on the television like it held all the secrets to the universe.

His dark brown hair was combed backwards slightly, although being a kid it was much messier than intended. The young boy wore a pair of blue flannel pajamas. He was home alone, since his mother had died a year previously, and his father was out at work.

"Crayne, my son, as beautiful and regal as the animal that you were named after...make me proud...I love you more than you could ever know." Had been his mother's dying words as she lay on her death bed, dying from an unknown disease that the doctors had failed to find a cure to in time.

His mother had been the light of his life, always such a sweet woman towards him, even until her very last breath. His father on the other hand, soon became bitter after the death of his beloved wife. He was salty because he thought that she had cared more for their son than he. So, in result, the man decided to make his son's life as miserable as possible.

Speaking of his father, the front door slammed open, startling the young child, who jumped in his seat from the couch.
His father leaned against the doorframe, a bottle of alcohol in hand. He glared at his son in distaste, his expression similar to that of someone who was regarding a slug that they had just trodden on.
The son looked up warily, unsure of what he should do.

"Crayne!" Snarled the father, slamming his bottle of beer down on the kitchen table so hard that it was a wonder that it didn't shatter on impact.

"Y-yes?" Answered the small boy quietly, turning off the TV. His father loomed over him, his eyes narrowed with drunken rage. A slap rang out around the room and young Crayne whimpered, holding back tears because he knew that if he didn't, he would be in bigger trouble.

"Adress me as sir!" Boomed put his Father, his eyes livid and wide. Young Crayne bent his head, sniffling softly.
"S-sorry sir."

His father grunted and stalked off, leaving his son on the couch with a red hand mark directly across his small face, his big doe eyes wide and wet with tears as he silently swore to himself that one day, he would be the one in power.

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Crow: Because that's what every seven year old child wants, to rule the world, right? Anygays, thanks for reading this chapter, sorry for it not being as long as usual. Bye, love you all ♡

Word count: 1314
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