Regrets

Chapter 6 - Runaway

Song: Runaway - Ed Sheeran

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Who wants to know?"

"James. I'm James. And you?"

The guy standing there couldn't be older than seventeen. And yet, he sounded way more mature than the nineteen year old sitting on the dirty ground before him.

"James is such a white guy name. Suits you"

"Haha, you think? And what kind of name is yours?"

"Well, an awesome one, obviously"

James laughed at that. It wasn't particularly funny, and he earned a weird look from the black boy in front of him, but it didn't seem like he cared in the slightest.

"I like your humour", James stated. Within a second, he was sitting on the dirty ground along with the other male, dirtying his nice, light grey jeans that didn't have a single hole or rip in them.

"If I'm so funny, you should pay me for it", the black replied dryly as he held out a coffee cup. It was still steaming and there was a bit of coffee left in it as well. It was obvious he had drank from it not long ago.

"I would, if you needed it. But you're a thief, a very good one at that. I saw you at the market with your friend. You stole at least a couple hundred from the venders there", the white boy answered just as dryly.

The older boy's eyes widened as he let go of the cup. The sound it made when hitting the ground echoed between them as silence spread. Seconds later, he reached for his knife, only to realize it was gone.

"You searching for this?", James was smiling smugly as he held up a black and silver flip knife that looked dirty and rusty, like flipping it wouldn't really work anyway. The look on the other boy's face was simply priceless, a mix of disbelief, shock, anger and impressment.
"Tell me your name", the joking aspect had disappeared from James' voice. It sounded dry and unfazed instead.

"Marcus", the guy huffed.

"Nice to meet you, Marcus. Mind walking a bit with me?"

Marcus awoke with a ragged breathing that morning, gasping for air, yet unable to inhale any of it properly. Seconds later, he began coughing violently. His throat was raw as he sucked in sharp breaths in between coughs.

"Fuck", he spit out before falling into another coughing fit.

His head pounded and felt as if someone was pressing on it with the strength of two or three hundred bar.
Still coughing harshly, he sat up and slowly got out of bed to avoid his vision turning black. "Sick" was an understatement for what he felt like. Everything seemed blurry as he looked around while stumbling towards the kitchen.

His hand reached out for a cup from the cupboard as the other steadied him on the kitchen counter to prevent him from falling over due to his immense coughing. It was a cheap plastic cup, one of those, people would take along for camping. James had argued that those cups were not only cheap, but also very robust and easy to clean. In other words, the perfect equipment for lazy people like himself and Marcus.

With shaky hands, he filled the cup with water from the tap. It wasn't the cleanest water, and it tasted like over half of it was chlorine, but that didn't stop Marcus from drinking the whole cup as quickly as he could. Even though it tasted as awful as he predicted, he still felt a lot better after drinking. After all, at least he was able to breathe properly again.

Still, there was this lingering fatigue. Marcus felt incredibly weak.

His hand wandered over the counter to find the old push-button telephone he had found in the trash and which James had got working again somehow. Neither of them had ever been great with electronics, but James was a fast learner and they needed a phone, so he had taken it upon himself to repair it. In any case, Marcus felt very thankful for it in that moment.

"Lou, I'm sick. Can you cover for me at work?", Marcus sniffed into the phone. His nose was running now, but of course he didn't have tissues at home, or anything like that. Actually, he never had anything for any sickness at home. James used to have a first aid kit in his car, and that was all they ever needed. Marcus had never been sick before, and the few times James had been sick, he just stayed at home and got back on his feet without medication or anything like wet towels or tissues.

"No can do, Marc. Boss is checking our progress today, remember? She wanted us to meet at the office", Louis sighed into the phone.

"Shit. Okay, I'll come", Marcus huffed. Of course he had to be sick for the first day in forever on the one day where he shouldn't be. That seemed to be just his luck lately. Just yesterday, he had managed to spill the last bit of coffee and since he had woken up late as always, there hadn't been time to get some from the McDonalds around the corner of his apartment.

"Are you sure? You sound terrible", Louis pointed out, receiving a growl from Marcus.

"Yes, I can't be missing. That bitch would fire me on the spot. I'm not a legal worker, remember?", Marcus hissed quietly into the phone, as if someone could be listening in on him explaining his current working conditions. It wasn't that he was an illegal immigrant, no, but he was an illegal worker, which admittedly only made his situation mildly better. After all, if his visa ran out before he could get an American passport, he would have to leave. However, his working situation was a way bigger problem at the moment to him than his living situation.

With another rustlingcough, Marcus grabbed his jacket from a chair and made his way over to theapartment door.
It wasn't like he could do anything about it now anyway.