f o s t e r

one // an encounter

Brandon Yuno had never been the greatest kid. From the time he was five years old, there was something odd about him. The brunette had always been peculiar. At thirteen, Brandon couldn't keep his grades steady.
He continuously was told by counselors, parents, family, that he needed to keep his grades up. Brandon didn't care for any of that. By fourteen, he had straight F's. That was the time in his life where he would get into major fights. And by fifteen, he had already had sex with multiple girls. None of it mattered to him. He would take what he wanted and leave.
By sixteen, he dropped out of high school altogether. He started selling Xanax, and slowly would up the price for it each time a customer would come back. Eventually, he got his hands onto more drugs, which made him have an even better income.
Towards the end of his year of sixteen, he was accepted into a gang. Though, it wasn't even really that. He would always refer to them as 'the crew'.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't accept the fact he was in a gang. By seventeen, nothing got better in his life. He had as many girls as he could ever wish for. He was never satisfied with any of them.
Eighteen, nineteen and twenty were average years. By then, everything he did was just the norm for him. When he reached twenty-one and twenty-two, his foster brother had passed, not as if he cared that much. His foster brother was always the one he had at least somewhat of a bond with. It didn't hurt too much, but left a little sting. He moved on rather quickly, a talent he had. Currently, at twenty-three, sitting in a back alleyway, he pushed his curly brunette hair up out of his face. Brandon's blue eyes scanned around for his customer. No sign. His eyes squinted into a glare, if there was one thing he hated, it was definitely being stood up on the job.

Brandon absolutely hated it. He turned his back, after two more minutes of waiting. He headed back to the car that was running, for it was a bit cold out and he wasn't expecting to be there long at all. His hood was pulled up over his head, making him look even more sketchy than he had before, as if that was possible.
Brandon had always happened to be more quiet than anyone else. He kept his mouth shut, quite well. He never got attached to anyone, not because he feared commitment, but because he never wanted to hurt himself. Out there he wanted to make himself the biggest guy there was. Of course, his name happened to be in the streets quite often.

As Brandon entered the car he pulled up with, he would see a frantic being sprinting into the alleyway. From his window, the tiniest smirk would grow on his lips. Behind schedule? It wasn't his problem. Though, he'd be generous once. He got back out of his car, shutting his door, hearing the slam behind him. A bit rough on the door, once again, as if he cared.
This customer he had, was known to be on Brandon's nerves. That was never a good sign, it didn't stress Brandon, but it should've stressed the other boy who was panting before him. "Lovely, what a sight here, yes?" His thick, raspy voice bellowed out. This hadn't been the first time the customer had been late, either.
He was all around annoying, so why wouldn't he just, get rid of him? A phenomenal idea to the brunette man. Might've not been in the blonde's best interests. Brandon was very careful not to touch the man at all. By now, he was a natural at this. He carefully took the knife from his pocket, holding both of his arms behind his back. His face never left the freeze frame it was in. The brunette listened to the others pleads of forgiveness.

Brandon looked up to the sky, seeing as there were no cameras on the sides of the buildings. Within seconds, Brandon had kicked the other man to the ground, placing his boot on the others face, specifically his mouth. "It'll be worse if you scream," he warned. Brandon didn't kid. There was no way he was kidding at all with his demeanor. He bent down and held the knife to the younger man's throat, sitting above him. "Have this happen again, and you're done," he growled out. For good measures, he pressed the metal against his skin, leaving a mark. He made sure not to damage anywhere at his throat at all. Within seconds, he had shoved the knife back into his pocket, stepping away from the boy. He was violent, and anyone he had to scare, he would.

Brandon reached into his pocket of his grey sweatshirt, pulling out a small bag of xanax. The customer should've known his price. Brandon turned around after the boy hadn't brought enough. "Find a new dealer then."

That was all he had to say before walking back to his car. He didn't like his time being wasted.