The Art of Corruption

I Try

Eli reached home at a relatively good time, just three hours before he needed to be at school. Since it was the first day, he had no school, so he could sleep. Well, he still had to walk to his house, so he had a little less than three hours.

The neighbourhood was eerily quiet at this time at night. All the lights were off and there was nobody outside. Even the neighbours' watchdogs were asleep. There was something about the silence and darkness that was comforting. Eli always loved night time.

The area was far from the city, too, so the air was crisp and cool. Walking back home at night was probably Eli's favourite thing.

He walked slowly, knowing that he was wasting his sleeping time. He didn't care, though. He needed to get used to not sleeping anymore since these three hours would be used for doing homework and studying starting from tomorrow.

He just wanted to breathe in all the clean air before he had to go back inside his house, that typically smelled like cigarettes. Cigarettes. Eli completely forgot he had an unopened pack in his pocket, and his mood seemed to lighten almost immediately.

He finally reached his house, hands in his pockets, ready to pull out a cigarette as he stood in the front yard. He didn't bother sitting on the porch, he was too awake to try and relax.

He put the cigarette in between his lips and got the lighter from his back pocket. He lit it and breathed in slowly. He needed to un-tense, especially after the tiring day he'd had, and especially after thinking of all the work he'd need to do tomorrow . . . and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that--

"You never seemed like someone who wanted to kill themselves," a voice spoke. Eli flicked his eyes up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and turned his head to blow the smoke. It was Scott.

"What gave you that impression?"

Scott raised his eyebrow.

Eli walked down the steps, tauntingly blowing smoke in Scott's face with a grin. Scott didn't waver, his eyes dark and his jaw tense.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Eli asked. Scott took the cigarette from where it rested on Eli's lips and let it fall on the ground before stepping on it with the front of his sneaker.

"I could ask you the same question. It's three in the morning."

"Right," Eli began, silently mourning the cigarette he'd only just started smoking. "But you're the one in front of my house."

Scott shrugged. "I was bored."

Eli only nodded and looked at the ground, where there was now only a small clump of ash and smoke.

"Those are going to kill you," he said after some time of silence.

Eli looked back up. "Really?" He said sarcastically. "You're the first person to tell me that."

Scott rolled his eyes. His gaze seemed to fix on Eli's cheek. "What's that?" He asked, pointing to his own cheekbone.

Eli's hand flew up to his face. He winced as pressed down, touching the bruise from earlier. "'Got punched by a customer."

To Eli's surprise, Scott laughed. There was something unexpected about it. Scott seemed like the type of person who didn't laugh very much or didn't find many things funny. He had one of the most intense faces Eli had ever seen, and probably the most judgemental eyes.

"Right, laugh all you want," Eli muttered, rolling his eyes. He had to admit to himself, though, that it was a little funny.

Scott put his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "Have fun with that, uh . . . what was your name?"