The dawning sun outside covered your cheeks and eyelids with what felt like a million tiny hugs. The feeling was great, however the sound of the construction workers outside of our dank hideout was not. It was amazing how just across the street they were creating a new building while this one slowly rotted away, but it was alright. More than alright, actually. If they reconstructed this site, then you would have no place to live. And if you had no place to live, you and your family were royally fucked.
You get up and head out of your "bedroom" and into the "living room", careful not to wake up any of the members of your family. Well, not really family. Families don't usually pretend to be innocent beggars and steal food and money from anyone passing by. Families don't usually live in a shanty-ass apartments in the Bronx. Families aren't usually made up of grubby, young boys scrounging up meals bit by bit. But these people are your family, and anyone who says otherwise will end up with a mouth full of Rufioh fist.
You run your fingers through your black and red hair as you tiptoe through the minefield of adolescent boys sleeping on the floor. God, how many were there now? Six, seven? You don't really care. You're more focused on feeding their mouths than counting them.
While you're lost in your thoughts you accidentally stumble over the youngest of the group, Mituna, who is curled up on the floor next to your second in command, Kurloz. You gently withdraw your foot, only to back up into another member of your gang. He mutters something dirty and slowly flips onto his other side. The asshole's dark hair is so greasy that he just combs it back and expects everyone to assume it's gel. Everyone in your group hates him and begs you to kick him out, but you just can't. You feel bad for the guy. There must be something deep down causing him to be such a huge douche, and if there isn't? Well, at least he's a decent pickpocket.
When you reach the door, you turn back around to face your home. All of the boys are still sleeping soundly. Mituna and Kurloz are spooning. Cronus is sleep-groping little Dave's butt, which you're sure Dirk won't be too happy about in the morning. Karkat is sprawled across the floor, and Horuss is in his little corner making snoring sounds that vaguely sound like little neighs. Ah, they look so peaceful. A true LB would think it was time to stir up trouble, and you just happen to be the Leader of the LB's. So, naturally, you'll fuck shit up.
You open the door to the hallway, trying your best to make sure it doesn't squeak. You position yourself in your running stance, lean your head back towards the apartment, and scream 'Bangarang' at the top of your lungs. You slip out with the door slightly cracked, and watch chaos ensue. Damn, you love being a Lost Boy.