I stared up at the sun.
It was a heist that was seemingly going good. They had adventured deep into the city, through the back alleys and passed the drug dealers they're known to strike a conversation or two. Successful, everyone calls it a night, and most return home outside of the city. Nobody wants to live around here, not with the excessive crimes they have been committing as a crew. They're feared, but they're also afraid. It's a cold Thursday evening, the rain aches from the skies above. It impales the grounds, shattering to dozens of small droplets. Creating puddles in some areas, small streams of water down an aging street. It's lovely, and doesn't appear to lighten up for quite a while. The sun had disappeared for the day.
In an abandon building, they had made a shelter. So that private life ever got in the way. They met here often. Broken windows give off evidence that there's something going on. But the heavy metal door that serves as their only entrance on the second level gives off a presence that there isn't anything here. They're an office in this old factory building. Hiding away from the life most think to be normal. The waters nearby remind them that this is real life. That this is what they chose. And they'll be damned should they go back to even ever pretend nothing is wrong.
There is blood stained onto their skins. Hidden to the naked eye, but quite visible to the men who has caused it.
Only two of the men are present right now. Both of them in thick jackets, leather gloves and a scarf. The weather around here tends to get colder than most because of living by the waters. And, the season changing. There's a small desk lamp sitting on the edge of the desk the pair are behind. Close to falling, it had to be a decent bump against the aging wood of the desk to have it fall over again. It's been shattered twice, baring hanging on with the use of duct tape. Fingers can be heard trailing against paper. The men are quiet, exhaling softly. They review what had happened, what they could of done better. It's a miracle any of them escaped with nothing but bruises or small cuts. They're quite easy to repair, to mend like new. The trailing stops, and the skies outside roar. They're upset, thunder flashing everywhere. It flashes, and in that moment. One of them catches a glimpse of the flash on the brick walls.
It shows off serial murders, devil horns and tails proudly swinging around them. He, the one with glasses shrugs it off. At least with this money, they can afford more equipment.
".. And we'll have to restock on supplies for the next mission." The other said, staring at his partner. Those beige eyes immediately cock, wondering if the other is day dreaming again. The back of his hand taps against the other. "Are you listening?"
Immediately, he shook his head. Staring back at his partner. There wasn't a smile, but more of a serious expression. How much longer could they keep going at this? He nodded. "Roger, Adam."
The two pairs of eyes wandered quickly to the window. They weren't far from it, simply turning around from where they stood. A boat passes by, signaling others that could be on the waters. Those men and women, they're working hard on bringing products and good to the city. Whether it would be shipping them out, or bringing in imports. They're repairing the damages the gang has caused. They don't really have a 'group name', but they sure have shared the spotlight when it comes to looking for these wanted men. The boat passes the front of the building, in the middle of the water as it travels slowly. Neither of them make a move, but enjoy the silence.
Thought of all the people, the places, and things I loved.
Adam had lost his home outside of the city due to arson. They're looking for the select few adolescents who had caused it. There's webcam footage of them that has been circling the airwaves but all leads go no where, and the police aren't much of help. When they discovered that the ringleader had an unusual amount of ammunition for most guns the felons are using, he played it off that he's a gun collector. That he wouldn't dare use them in violent crimes. A background check told the officers that Adam is clean. Just an individual working at a factory they have never heard of. Since the arson about two months ago, he's been living with the gentleman beside him. They've been friends for years. But with the amount of time everyone has poured into stealing, robbing, and framing the city brings them closer. There's a tint of cigarette smoke that lingers in the room.
Damn, smoking is a terrible habit to pick up.
The man with glasses, he had put a cancer stick between his lips. It was a way to calm his nerves as he left the sight of the window. Going over to a couch that could barely support his weight. He sits on it roughly, and thankfully, the couch still stands. Relaxing, those roughed-up nerves calm down. Staring over to the darkness of the room. Where all their weapons stay. It's weird that the police authorities have yet to check to building for anything. But thanks to Adam's lies, it continues to stand in the darkness. It was like a sore thumb sitting in the middle of nowhere. Slightly taller buildings make the place hidden. Maybe that's why nothing has gone wrong yet.
The other approaches the man on the couch. Its color had been faded out by the number of years it sat in the sun, the rains, and the winds. It was something they needed when all the other suitable places in the room had been taken by their teammates. "You didn't start smoking until I moved in with you." Adam begins, looking down at his calloused fingers. The scarf around his neck falls from his shoulders thanks to gravity. Those hands went to fix the fashion statement, waiting for a response. He doesn't say anything. Looking away, and inhaling in a deep manner. The man with glasses takes a swing of his cigarette. Blowing smoke in the opposite direction.
"I know."
"Lawrence."
Pale digits went to grab the cigarette from his lips, resting between his fingers. Lawrence had caution not to let any of the ashes fall on the couch again. A small fire near live ammunition would of caused them all their lives. No, not again. Not like the nightmares that refuse to leave. God, they're weak, they're weak mentally.
The room is filled with silence, and neither of them say a word for about ten minutes. Adam adjusts himself where he sits on the couch. His dominant arm resting on the broken pieces of wood that was once an arm rest. He brings up one left, having it rest on top of the other while the other man finishes his cigarette. "Why?"
Lawrence doesn't answer. He sits up from the resting position he was in. Gets up, and pushes the rest of the burning embers in a small shot glass. There's so many empty bottles of liquor. Most of them broken after celebrating their victories. Nobody was arrested, nobody was seriously injured. And walk away with the share of the money. He's still going to question it after every heist, eh? There's no need to give him an answer. Adam is the cause of it, after all. It was a way to cool himself. To relax, to remember what life used to be living in this dreadful city. Before they threw out their dreams of getting their dream jobs. Getting their dream wives (or, husbands. It was questionable with Joel).
"Let's go home." Claimed one of them, grabbing medium-sized gym bags. What's inside? Probably firearms, or cash. It was always something random, something heavy. With the car they had stolen previously already sitting in a river somewhere around the city, public transportation will do.
Arriving at Lawrence's small, ran down house. It's actually a nice thought to have a roommate while Adam does his best to find another small apartment away from the city of the damned. Wonder if anyone ever struck it out big in that place. Probably not, as with every successful individual there is. There is an equally crazy one who somehow ended up with a firearm in their fingers. Pointing it at the man and causing a swift death. Important figures fall down every day. And the numbers grow the more dangerous heists the crew goes on. Fiddling around with his keys, he inserts the item into the lock. Turning it until it clicks, Lawrence removes it, a hand on the door knob and pushes it open with keys still in hand.
The rains behind them still pour down in a quick manner. This time, there's less sun in the sky. It's dark. The street the pair live on is probably darker. What sits in the driveway is a dud car to pretend that these two heterosexual men live a normal life. Nobody knows who they are, but they've seen their faces enough to recognize that they're friendly. For, now.
Nothing else lives inside this old, beat-up, one-story home. It was just the two men. Adam sleeps in the living room, on a sofa that's no less than five years old. What surrounds him are a bunch of computer equipment. Stacks of paper and newspaper as tall as the ceiling. If an earthquake decided to hit the place, Adam would've been crushed. Closing the door behind them, he shortly kicks off his shoes. Lawrence places the two gym bags on the ground by the tiny, round coffee table sitting in the middle of the kitchen. There's dishes in the sink that's been there for no less than three days.
None of them have time to do it. A faint smell of old guacamole fills the air. It never reached the bedroom, or else Lawrence couldn't sleep. He doesn't say anything, approaching the thermostat on the wall. Placing the temperature to something more pleasant, a bit warmer. Funny how everyone bitches about the heat when summer comes. But when the cold is here, nobody complains. They only complain because of the waters. The waters, they made everything so much colder than what it should be.
Stripping off of their heavy jackets, Lawrence throws them onto an empty kitchen chair. There's a coffee machine sitting on the countertop. Taking the top portion of it to see if either of them changed it before leaving, it seemed like none of them did. That's fine. Doing the appropriate tasks, he brews some coffee for Adam. It's not late, about ten in the evening. But they've been up since the early hours. When a heist comes around, neither of them sleep. Plus. There's something on his mind. Something that Lawrence needs to discuss. Discussing them on a public forum on the internet didn't seem right this time.
The smell of fresh coffee covered the smell of moldy food. Adam was in the living room, on his smartphone as he read the details of their heist. How already it's making the news. Something about this makes that resting, often upset facial features crack a small smile at the corner of his lips. "They're trying to find us again."
I stared up just to see.
Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he placed them firmly on the countertops. The coffee soon stopped brewing. Grabbing the pot carefully, Lawrence's hands started to shake. Fuck this cold weather, they're messing up even the simplest of actions. Pouring the liquid into the mugs, he filled Adam's to the top. While he stopped his mid-way. Placing the pot back onto its heating plate. He prepped his coffee the way he liked it- A bit of creamer, and some sugars. With both of his hands wrapped around the mugs, Lawrence went back into the living room. No less than six steps away.
Adam sees his roommate, promptly discarding his phone on the space next to him on the couch to take the mug out of his hands. He nods in thanks, while Lawrence takes a seat next to him. The one with glasses looks on carefully.
Of all other faces, you are the one next to me.
"Do you remember what we discussed with something happens to any of us?" He asks his partner. The other was taking a sip of his coffee. He nods while taking the drink, placing it down again between his fingers. Everyone remembers what would happen. Burn the body, split their assets between them and report them to their loved ones when the time was right. There's been close times where they almost lost one, or two. Not even all the medication in the world could cure them of that.
To lose someone, to have them be ripped out of their lives like that. One day, they're completely fine. They're smiling, joking about anything going on at the time. And the next, they could be gone. They could be covered in cold crimson. It could've been anyone. The images haunt them both, remembering a time where they had found a homemade bomb they created be faulty. And explode in Bruce's backpack. They had to cancel that mission soon after. It wasn't worth it going in with just them, when they required everyone's help. "I don't really think about it." replied Adam.
Those eyes are heavy, the darkening circles around them. They haven't had a decent night's sleep in a long time, and Adam is getting tired of taking sleeping pills to put his fragile mind at rest that everything is alright. Lawrence straight up refuses to take any medication. They have terrible side effects that negatively affects everyone involved. These nightmares, they'll go on for practically forever. Maybe even after they become irrelevant in their lifetimes. The thoughts are heavy and hard-hitting. But they have each other to cope through while they're on a small break. If this was a daily thing, there's no doubt any of them would of simply ended it then and there.
The money probably isn't worth it after all.
Time passes, and both men had finished their drinks. Lawrence takes both of the mugs and places them on the side of the sink. The sink too full to place after cup unless they were a fan of watching them collide with the floor. Shatter into a million pieces and break their backs so that neither of them step on broken glass during a sleepless night. Leaning against the wall, the living room is finally getting warm. It took a while, but it'll help them even if it was temporary. "Get some sleep." said the house owner. Adam stared up, nodding. There's a black cable that came from behind the couch. It was a phone charging cable. He attached it to his phone. Soon, getting up.
"Good night."
A hand is placed on Lawrence's shoulder. He doesn't say anything but nods. Another cigarette would be nice right now. Adam headed towards the bathroom. Flickering on the lights and closing the door behind him. A lock clicks, indicating the other is going to shower. Ah, another routine. It's never going to get old.
Forcing himself into his own small bedroom, he also turns on the dim lighting of the ceiling fan. And closes the room. The fan so weak there's honestly no point in turning it on. There's clothing everywhere. On his television, his dresser and desk. They've even on the floor, and a makeshift plan lies in the middle. They should be happy, they have more money than they ever thought they would. Well, Lawrence has about a hundred grand in savings. Money sitting in safes in his closet. But. But, it doesn't feel right. Maybe he's missing something. Missing someone in his life. Adam comes to mind quickly. Ah, no. Not these thoughts again. Shaking his head, he takes off his glasses, places them where he usually did on his dresser. And puts a hand on the light switch again. Turning it off, he shakes himself stupid. Sleep would do him good. Stripping down to just a plain, old white shirt and a pair of boxers, he climbs into bed.
The blinds are closed, showing off a street light in the distance. It shines dimly through Lawrence's bedroom window. There's gunshots going off in the distance. Rival gangs, maybe. But it was something that could put him to sleep. This bed, it's pretty soft. Enough to hold another person of his size. Already in a relaxing position, he quickly sits up. It's been ten minutes since Adam wished him a good night. Maybe, it wouldn't of been a bad idea to have the other switch it up. After all, they're adult men, they can admit what they love, like and dislike.
Swinging his legs to the edge of the bed, Lawrence stands stall in the darkness. The light outside guides him carefully to his door knob. Turning it, the sounds of running water had just stopped when he stepped in the hallway. Taking a few steps forward, he stopped at the only bathroom in the house. Adam is still there, doing god-who-knows-what. Raising up his hand, he knocked the door with his bruised knuckles. There's no response, he does it again. This time Adam faintly replied. It sounded like mumbling, not wanting to raise his voice up after such a long day.
"Hey, did you want to share a bed with me tonight?"
There is no response. Right when he asked, an electric shaver goes off. Ah, right. He's probably busy. There's no point. Why did he do this? "Never mind, I'll see you in the morning." Spoke the man, raising his voice.
Defeated, Lawrence drags his feet back into his bedroom. When he closed the door behind him, he also locked it. Goddamn, high school mistakes. Maybe these feelings, they were just for the moment. They're always so afraid to lose one another. They're always talking about it. Lawrence, though. Seems slightly more concerned about Adam than he does about anyone else. And don't get him wrong. He'd equally feel depress losing his friends. But losing someone like this? Even if the mistake wasn't a huge one, is devastating. Lying down on his bed again, he throws the thick blankets over his best. Regretting even getting up in the first place.
Tomorrow will be better, they'll get something to eat. Maybe then, Lawrence can confess. If their other teammates are completely okay with this. Nah, they'll joke around like always.
At least he knows he belongs somewhere.
A knock is heard at his door. It's evident on who it is. "Lawrence?" Could be heard on the other side. The man doesn't reply, so it makes Adam think that he's already asleep. And, he does. The other shrugs off the moment, returning to the living room. Settling down on the couch, he grabs his phone. Checking out more and more details of their heist.
The gunshots stopped as well. Sirens go off, rushing and cutting everyone off. It's always like that here. It's always going to be like that. Lawrence sighs, shutting those eyes slightly. Maybe in his dreams, that everything he's secretly wished always turned into reality. If only it applied to now.