I Found You (The Rewrite)

Chapter 1

The gate squeaked with century old rust in the wind, the barb wire lining the top rustling as it bobbed back in forth on the chain lock, protecting the front door of the crew's hideout.

Their home was an old warehouse in the middle of god knows where on the very outskirts of London.

The red brick factory building was dirty and old when Max found it, the tall windows broken and some completely smashed in, the floor inside filled with old machine parts and the old wooden floor above splintered and almost caved in.

The land was a forgotten junk yard when the Manchester born boy bought it off an ailing farmer for only 392 pounds.

He had a history of carpentry in his family so it wasn't hard for Max when he and his best friend Tom began to fix the place up.

The two had grown up together when Tom moved from Bolton at the young age of six, his father having lost his job back home.

They became friends quick considering they were the same age and shared similar interest.

Their love of football and trouble making made them an unstoppable duo and they stayed close for most of primary school.

When Tom's older brother died right before the start of secondary he suddenly disappeared; his parents having sent him to a boarding school back in Bolton as they tried to work through their issues.

Max was distraught, begging his mum to let him go visit Tom, but they just didn't have the money for it.

The two boys did their best to keep up, writing letters to each other until slowly they became fewer and fewer in between.

Eventually Tom's parents divorced and moved away one after the other, leaving nothing in their wake.

At eighteen the boys reunited in a corner store in London. Max's mother had died a few months prior and he could no longer pay for school; turning to theft when he couldn't find a job.

With a mask on and a gun to the owner's head he yelled for the bag to be filled faster, the older man shaking as he grabbed handfuls of bills from the till.

"Max?" A soft, timid voice asked from the back of the store.

Max had frozen, turning to look at the source with wide eyes.

A small, frail man with shaggy brown hair and a tank top hanging off him stood in the isle, a can of red bull and a bag of chips clutched in one hand.

His big brown eyes were wide and scared, a look of uncertainty in them as he stared into Max's cool grey one's.

Max was so shocked he didn't move until the sound of police sirens out front startled him into action.

He knocked the cashier in the head with the butt of his gun before charging towards Tom, his Tom, and leading him out the back door to where his mum's old car was sat waiting in the alley.

He practically threw Tom across the backseat along with his bag and mask before getting in himself and speeding off into the night.

He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care, he just kept driving, Tom slowly climbing into the passenger seat over time until he was finally over the center console and settled next to Max, still staring at him with confusion in his eyes.

It was nearly two in the morning when Max finally stopped the vehicle, pulling over in the dirt on some desolate side road situated between two fields.