The two boys stood inside the large, seemingly ever-growing estate shifting their eyes from painting, to statue, to another elegant piece. They stood out like a sore thumb, wearing raggedy, ripped clothing, no shoes and unkempt hair. The taller obviously older one grabbed his younger brother's hand and trailed him around various hallways of lengths and sizes. They hung a right, only to come up on a dead end full of paintings. Then a left, where they hit another dead end with nothing but a chest of drawers bordering the baby-romantica-colored wall lining. Seeming as though they had walked in circles for hours, they finally came upon a door. Unfortunately, another dead end. Just a closet, full of some old junk. As they were about to shut the door and take their leave, the younger one released the grip he had on his sibling's hand and dashed inside, picking up this and that. Almost breaking a customized set of toy soldiers, his older brother smacked him in the back and scolded him for doing something so irresponsible. As they turned and left they--
"What. The hell. Are you two. Doing in my closet?" A tall, muscular (slightly bulging) figure stood before them. He had on large boots, and a brown bomber jacket. His blond hair was combed to one side, and his glasses were just hanging off one side of his nose as he glared at the younger boys. He seemed infuriated. Grabbing the two by their shirt collars in separate hands, he dragged the boys down a hallway, then another, making a few turns and coming into what seemed to be a parlor of sorts. He sat the young men down on a futon, and took his own seat in a large, pink and off-white arm chair. The parlor had beautiful, oak flooring, matching chairs and sofas, and even the end tables looked as though they'd be comfortable to lie on. A large mirror above the older man's head showed the reflection of the two boys sitting opposite him. Their heads hanging, feet fumbling over each other.
"I thought I told you not to go anywhere near that closet boys...." He seemed weary. Not his usual self. The man always enjoyed running around, eating, making jokes and sticking his nose in other people's business. But for now, that seemed like the last thing on his mind. "That closet is full of dangerous things, I don't want you getting into. I mean, I've told you ten times now, any room I declare restricted, is off limits."
"But Alfred--" The older one piped up. "No! I've told you no! I know you're not used to living under conditions like these. You're accommodated to...well...alley ways, and street corners. But i'm not letting you go back out there like that! There's got to be something I can do to..." he began to trail off, mumbling to himself. "After seeing the two of you in that burning buildin--" "No!" He was cut off by the younger one, dubbed Jacob. Jacob was starting to cry and burried his face in his older brother's, Oliver's, shoulder. "Alfred, please...." Oliver began to explain. "That...that's a touchy subject....we'd really rather not speak of that any longer...but I think I have a solution to your issue of having us around all the time..." Alfred stared at Oliver, sort of puzzled. A look stating he was trying to figure out what Oliver was going to say. "Alright I give up. Tell me." Oliver looked down at the top of Jacob's head, then back at Alfred. "We're used to living outside or on the streets.....and we know how to make it....I figured maybe we could stay somewhere outside of the house in a couple of boxes...still on your property of course. I've lived on the streets for twelve years, and Jacob for eight...since we were born...we know how to get our own food. We could easily make it..." Alfred stared really hard at Oliver and Jacob for about ten minutes. Ten long, quiet minutes. Finally, with a cracking voice Alfred picked up his head. "Alright...you can try to make it on your own. BUT if the smallest mishap is to happen, you're coming back inside!" Alfred seemed as though he was gaining his usual zeal back, and his weariness was wearing off. Oliver smiled and Jacob gradually stopped crying. "Thank you Alfred....we'll leave tomorrow morning."