Dying is easy | ONGOING

Chapter 6| Old chap

The three of us spent a few hours dealing with the wreckage that was the dilapidated store—and by the three of us I mean Me, Mason and Isaak—Mateo was more interested in asking Isaak one thousand and one hundred questions about clothes—most of the questions I didn't even understand and if Isaak was just as annoyed as I was about the non stop barrage of them, he didn't show it.

"You're making your own clothes to sell right?" Mateo asked, yet another question. This question was actually something that piqued my interest too though. Because while I was cleaning up the place to make it more presentable, I hadn't really cared to ask why.

I was more concerned about disowning my treacherous brothers.

Isaak strained a smile while he carried a heavy looking box across the store, "that is...the-the idea-idea."

Something I noticed when Isaak talked was that underneath all the stuttering and struggle of speech—he had a hint of an accent. Something European, though I couldn't exactly tell what it was. I wanted to ask, but I couldn't seem to find any time between Mateo rambling and Mason shoving me around to do it.

"Mateo!" Mason exclaimed, apparently just as exasperated about the onslaught of questions. "Quit bothering him and start helping!"

Speak of the devil.

Mateo looked like he was about to refute what he said but Mason apparently had enough. He dropped two boxes in front of Mateo and pointed towards the back of the store. "You know a lot about fabrics apparently. So you can sort these out at the back."

"But-"

"Go."Mason repeated through gritted teeth, as if he was keeping his patience under wraps and was struggling to do so. Mateo decided it wasn't worth but a hmph and took a box to the back. When he disappeared behind the door Mason sighed, "sorry about him Zack—"

Zack? I thought incredulously.

"You get the fucker started and he just keeps going." He sighed again, this one longer and heavier, and wiped at his forehead. "Man, this is harder than I Imagined."

Isaak looked sheepish, "sorry. I will get water." He rushed out before practically sprinting up the stairs. As he did I looked between Mason and towards the stairs, the gears in my head turning but not seeming to get to a point that I could figure out what exactly they were turning for. I looked back towards the shelves I was hammering at and decided I wanted a break myself.

I carefully set down the shelf I was currently working on and sat down on the floor, not caring for the saw dust sticking to the bottom of my pants—only really caring for the small window of time that gave me room to think. The clouds outside were a shade lighter today, something not seen often in San Francisco, especially around this time of year, but I wasn't complaining. I liked the brightness of the sun as well as the moderate heat that would come with the beginning of spring. Not too hot but with just a touch of wind and sun to make it less than cold. The city was less city in this neighborhood. Less businesses, a depressing amount of pedestrians and less tall buildings—it was almost cozy (besides the fact that literally nobody was in the streets).

It was almost...Warm.

Too bad I couldn't say the same about my feelings concerning my brothers at the moment.

I don't know why Mason thought it was a good idea to bring me here, but so far I haven't been having a good time. As soon as I got here I was put straight to work without having a single say in the matter and have been playing handyman for a complete stranger. (A stranger with a seriously weird taste for clothing but I digress.)