A Broken Crew

Chapter 3

They all nodded and chorused the last goodbye, then filed out the door. Grey comes back in after going out and walks over to the couch, picking up a sleeping Kacey and putting him on his back. Grey then pauses by the door, and turns back to Dakota. "Thanks for talking to Kacey earlier." He says just loud enough for Dakota to hear, then leaves.

Dakota stared after him for a moment. "What'd he say?" August asked. Dakota shrugged. "I don't know." He stretched. "Come on, let's sleep. When's your mom going to be back from work?" August shrugged. "Around 3 a.m. I think." They went up the stairs. At that moment, Atlas came out of his room, wearing rain gear. Dakota glared at him. "Atlas where are you going?" August said, sounding tired. Atlas glared at him. "None of your business." August tried to talk to him. "Atlas, you shouldn't go out this late, you'll worry Mom." Atlas sneered at him. "I'm not a pathetic weakling like you. I don't get hurt and sick every step I take, and I don't care what Mom does, she can go cry herself a river." "Don't talk about Mrs. Reid like that!" Dakota snapped, raising his voice. "She cares about you and all you do is spit in her face!" Atlas got right in Dakota's face. "She. Can go. Cry. Herself. A River." Then he stalked off. August looked sad. "Just let him be Kotes." he said. "He doesn't listen. Let's just go to bed."

After Grey makes sure the others get to their homes safety and Roman picks up groceries for his roommates and himself, Grey decides to wander around for a while, unwilling to go home. He was absolutely exhausted, but he pushed on anyway. He ran a mental checklist- the twins back in their apartment and the door locked, Jess and Kacey safely with Cassidy at her house, Roman with his roommate at their apartment... He sighs and stretches his wings, wincing as he strains his crooked wing. His phone rings and he checks it, then hits ignore. It was Cassidy. For the fifth time. He had no desire to live off the charity of his sister. So, alone and drenched, Grey makes his way to the roof tops, planning to sleep up there rather than go home to his father, who was, without question, drunk again.

Atlas headed out into the rain, feeling angry. Who did Dakota think he was? He barged into their house and acted like he was a part of the family. "And they love him more than me." he said, feeling a pang of sadness that he took out in the form of anger. He headed up onto a rooftop he knew well. Whenever he felt lonely, he'd go up there and chill, even in the rain. He headed up and to his surprise saw another boy up there, looking like he was going to sleep. "What are you doing here? Do you have no where to stay?" There was no point in being angry at strangers, and when he wasn't so angry, he could actually be a decent person.

Grey turned, slightly startled, feathers floofing up again. He looks at Atlas and then shrugs. "I'd rather sleep on a roof than go home." The way he says it is mostly flat with just a twinge of sadness. Grey takes off his glasses and tucks them inside their case before putting it back in his pocket. "I'm Grey."

Atlas plopped down next to him. "Atlas." He sighed loudly. "I can understand not wanting to go home. I can't stand being at home." He watched the sky, and slammed his fist on the pavement, creating a loud noise. Then he looked at Grey. "Sorry, I'm just angry." He looked at his hand. He'd cut it, and it was bleeding. "Aw man. Add this onto the list of things she's going to scold me about when I get home." He looked at Grey. "You planning on staying out here all night?"

Grey shrugs again. "Yeah. Might as well. It's not really that cold to me." He looks at Atlas' hand. "Want something to wrap that up with?" His voice was quiet as usual, but he sounded more comfortable than he had been all evening. A gust of wind came towards them and lifted Grey's wings off his back, making him hiss in pain as he struggled to pull them flat against his back again.

"Your wings..." Atlas saw the crooked shape of the left one, but then he let the sentence die. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Can... can you fly? I mean, have you ever..." He looked down. "Sorry, you probably don't want to talk about it, do you?"

Grey laughs and shakes his head. "No, I can't fly and never have." He carefully extends his crooked wing once the wind dies down. "I fell out of a tree trying to fly as a kid and broke it. But my dad... Doesn't really care about me, so I never got it checked out or anything and it healed wrong. I don't mind talking about it, actually.. I only mind people who pity me for it." That last comment was clearly not meant to offend, as evidenced by Grey's smile when he said it. "I'm actually surprised you noticed right away." Grey digs into a pocket in the jacket he has tied around his waist and pulls out a roll of bandaging, then tosses it to Atlas. "Here. Wrap up your hand so it doesn't get infected."

Atlas scoffed. "It wouldn't." But he wrapped his hand away. "You've never flown? That's so crazy to me." he said. "I'd feel so trapped without flying." A thought occurred to him. "Stand up and come here." he said, walking toward the edge of the roof. "And no, it's not a suggestion." He meant the last part as a joke, but wondered how Grey would take it.

Grey shrugs and comes over, not suspecting a thing. He was still smiling slightly. "Oh and what would you do if I refused?" He asks playfully as he walks over to Atlas at the edge.

"Dunno. That usually works." Abruptly Atlas grabs his hand. "Don't scream or we'll get in trouble." He jumps over the edge of the 50 story building, pulling Grey with him, preparing to show Grey just what flying meant to him. But first, they had to fall a few feet.