Written for Brandywine421's Kill a Character Challenge at Live Journal.

Thanks to my beta, Loracj2.

Exposure

"Shit, Ry. What the fuck have you done now?"

Trey kicked the bedroom door venomously, shutting out the tirade erupting from his mother's latest boyfriend. He threw himself onto the unmade bed, eyeing his little brother, who sat, curled up in a fetal position, in the corner of the room.

"Drank all the milk." Ryan's voice was choked, tears streaming down his face unchecked.

Trey yanked off his boots, his face barely disguising his irritation with his younger sibling.

"Fuck it, Ry. Why the hell didn't you go to the store?"

Ryan sat up indignantly. "I said I'd go to the store, Trey…"

"The fucker too mad to listen, huh?" The smaller boy nodded, brushing his damp blond hair out of his eyes.

Trey rummaged in the pockets of his jacket, locating his cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack and lit up. Inhaling deeply, he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling wordlessly.

"Trey…put it out." Ryan's voice was pleading.

"That fucker doesn't care if I smoke…"

"No, but Mom does. If she finds out, she'll get mad, and then he'll get even madder." He bit his lip and blinked at his brother anxiously. Trey sat up with a start.

"Fuck it, Ryan, you're such a little bitch."

He took another lungful of smoke before stubbing the end out on the heel of his boot. Pulling on his boots, he pulled at the laces fiercely.

Trey was too quiet. Ryan watched him, panic threatening to engulf him.

"Where are you going?" he whispered.

"You know what Ry? Nobody fucks with my kid brother."

He leapt up and headed for the door. Ryan scrambled up, wiping his tears away frantically. "Trey, wait, I'm fine, OK? He didn't hurt me. Look, I promise, I'll stop crying." The door slammed in his face.

"Fucking kids. Hey, bitch, you hear how this little heap of shit is talking to me? Your fucking kids need to learn some respect." A.J. pushed past Dawn and reached into the refrigerator for a beer. Pulling at the ring pull, he glared at Trey who stood defiantly in front of him.

"Leave my brother alone. If you fucking touch him one more time, I swear I'll kill you."

A.J. sneered as he looked down at the boy, his fists clenched in readiness, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. Dawn stood between the boy and the man, her hands shaking as she lit a cigarette. "A.J. just leave him be. Trey, don't speak to A.J like that. He didn't touch your brother. Just yelled at him is all. Now leave it alone."

Trey's lips tightened as he regarded his mother with disdain.

"Leave it alone? All he did was drink the fucking milk. Since when was that a fucking crime?"

Trey squirmed as A.J. grabbed his wrist and hauled him along the hallway.

"You got a mouth on you, kid, that's for sure. But you're still a fuckin' runt."

Holding him by the scruff of his neck, A.J. threw him into the bedroom. Ryan stepped back in time just as his brother hurtled to the floor, landing in a heap at his feet.

"You got five minutes to get your stuff, and that little bitch, and get the hell outta here." A.J. yelled, as he turned his back and kicked the door shut behind him.

Ryan held out a hand tentatively and pulled his brother up. Trey pulled his t-shirt straight and rubbed his hand absently over his wrist. Ryan saw the red, angry band already forming.

He spoke urgently, his eyes wide with concern.

"What are we going to do, Trey? Where are we gonna go?"

"How the fuck do I know?" Trey snapped, as he began to fill a duffle bag with a couple of t-shirts and some underwear. "Now get some of your shit together."

Ryan looked round wildly. What kind of shit?

"What kinda stuff, Trey?"

Trey rolled his eyes. "Fuck it, Ryan. No one'd guess you're the smart one. What kind of stuff do you think? Something to keep you warm, some money if you've got any. Your blankie, whatever."

Ryan flushed indignantly. "I don't still have a blankie!"

Trey grinned, shoving a sweater into the bag. "I know you don't, but maybe you should have, you're behaving just like a baby."

Trey skipped over to the wooden closet in the corner. He felt around at the back of the shelf and drew out some battered magazines. He threw them at Ryan.

"Here, pack these. In case we get bored." Ryan picked them up from where they had fallen, trying hard not to look at the boobs that assaulted his eyes from the front cover.

Trey zipped up the bag and grabbed Ryan's hand. "Come on.."

They opened the door cautiously. They could hear Dawn down the hallway, pleading with A.J.

"But where are they gonna go A.J? It's Christmas. And it's fucking freezing out there."

They'd walked around the neighborhood twice in an effort to get warm. A biting wind cut into them, and they kept as close to the buildings as they could in an effort to shelter from it. As they headed down their own street for the third time, Ryan looked longingly at Theresa's house. It stood like a beacon of light, warm and inviting, little Christmas lights twinkling merrily from the windows.

"Can't we go to Arturo's house, Trey? His mom'll make us some dinner, I know she will."

"We're not going to Arturo's."

"But why not?"

"It's Christmas, Ry. Christmas is for family. They don't want us hanging around on Christmas."

So Ryan didn't ask any more. He didn't suggest Eddie's place, or Carlos's. Trey could get into a bar, but not with Ryan in tow. So he just kept walking. At first he struggled to keep pace with Trey, his brother was some fast walker when he was mad. But eventually they both slowed down to an amble. At least for Trey it was an amble. For Ryan it was dragging one foot after the other, struggling against the tiredness that was now threatening to consume him.

"Come on, little brother, it's too cold to walk this slow. We need to step it up a gear…"

"Can't we stop, Trey? I'm so tired. I just wanna sit down. Just for five minutes."

Trey looked at the younger boy speculatively. He did look beat. His eyes were round as saucers, with dark shadows forming underneath them. His shoulders were slumped and his head was tipped to the side wearily, waiting for Trey to answer.

Trey looked around furtively, and then sighed.

"O.K. We'll go to the park. The trees at the edge, behind the bushes, 'll give us a bit of shelter. Here, take this." He thrust the bag into Ryan's hands and then indicated to him to jump on his back. The younger boy needed no further encouragement. He yanked the bag over his shoulder and then climbed up, throwing his arms around his brother's neck.

Only the steady jarring of Trey's footsteps kept Ryan from falling asleep there and then. By the time they reached the spot Trey had talked about, his eyelids were so heavy; he could barely keep them open. Trey set him down at the base of a large beach tree, its leaves long gone and therefore not offering as much protection as Trey had envisaged. He pulled all the clothing out of the duffle bag and sorted through it.

"Here, put these on." He flung an oddball assortment of clothing his brother's way.

"I already have a jacket on." Ryan was irritable now. He couldn't be bothered to undress and put on more clothing.

"Do it. You need lots of layers. Sitting down here, you'll get cold real quickly."

Ryan scowled, but obeyed his brother. After putting on all the clothing they had, they huddled next to each other, Trey using a flashlight to leaf through the pages of his porn magazine. Ryan looked over his shoulder, wide eyed, at some of the positions those ladies were willing to allow to be photographed. His cheeks burned despite himself. He was glad it was dark and Trey couldn't see.

After a while, Ryan's stomach began to rumble. Until this point, he had tried hard to forget that he had missed dinner. Not that that was unusual, but he could normally find something in the cupboard to stave off hunger, even if it was only a slice of bread. Or better still, a visit to Theresa's mom's. Trey's stomach growled in sympathy.

"I got ten dollars.." Ryan ventured.

"Shit Ry, where'd you get ten dollars from?" His brother was impressed, he could tell.

"Theresa's mom gave it me for my birthday." He remembered it, shiny and new, falling out of the envelope with his birthday card. He'd looked at her shyly and she'd apologized that it wasn't more. Theresa had stood watching, from the corner of the room, knowing that ten dollars would be much more useful to Ryan than he would ever let on.

He dug in his pockets and pulled out the bill, tatty now, from constant folding and unfolding, as he'd deliberated endlessly on what to buy with it. He'd never been quite able to make the decision, and it had sat in his jeans pocket, for more than two weeks. Good thing his mom was not into doing regular laundry.

Trey stood up and stretched his arms out wide.

"I'll get us some burgers from that joint down near the pool hall." Ryan looked at him suspiciously. Would he get a burger, or would Trey cut him loose and lose his money hustling? Trey must have guessed his thoughts. "You wanna come?" But Ryan's limbs ached, and he was really quite warm now, and he just couldn't be bothered to trek a half mile when he could stay here, and sleep. "Na. I'll wait here for you." Trey nodded and thrust the ten-dollar bill in his pocket before heading off through the darkness of the deserted playground.

The snow fell lightly at first. Trey scowled to himself. He hadn't seen snow much in his life, and wasn't it typical of the Atwood luck that it should fall right when he and his brother were roaming the streets with nowhere to go? By the time he arrived at the burger joint, it was falling thick and fast, great dirty white fluffy balls of it.

Ryan dozed fitfully for a few minutes after his brother left, but the wet drips on his face as the snow began to permeate through the trees shocked him into wakefulness. He sat up shivering. He had got considerably colder since Trey had left. He supposed they had kept each other warm with their body heat. He pulled his jacket closer around him and tucked his knees up against his chin. The snow was falling more heavily now and Ryan watched it, mesmerised, as it began to blanket the asphalt of the playground. He wondered idly how much snow had to fall to build an igloo. He began to shiver again, and his hands were beginning to feel numb. He tucked them under his knees and continued to wait.

By the time Trey got back to Ryan, the snowstorm had eased slightly. His boots were sodden from the slush on the sidewalks and his jacket was damp from fallen melted snow. He pushed his way through the bushes and searched for the beach tree. Things looked different, covered in a layer of white. Ryan lay at the foot of the tree, pale and asleep. Trey nudged him with his foot.

"Leave me alone…I'll tell mom…"

"Ryan, wake up, you lazy fucker. I got you your burger. Got soaked. Show some fucking gratitude." Ryan struggled to open his eyes.

"Really tired, Trey…eat later…."

"No, you fuckin' won't. Eat it now, while it's hot." Trey shook his brother until he was satisfied he was awake. He didn't like Ryan's sleepiness. He needed to keep him awake. He knew that much from the Learning Channel.

Ryan pulled his hands out from under his knees. He attempted to take the paper bag from Trey but his fingers wouldn't co-operate. They felt numb and stupid. He gave up. Where the fuck was he anyway? And why was he so cold? Fuck it, he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep.

Trey looked at him, exasperated, snatching the bag and tearing open the wrapping. He handed the burger back to him. Blowing his own hands to warm them, he watched Ryan carefully.

The boy chewed at the bread half-heartedly, his eyes dull and unresponsive. Trey sighed and inched closer to his brother's body, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Stay close to me, and you'll be warm…"

Ryan dropped the burger into his lap and snuggled closer to his brother, resting his head on his chest.

Trey sat stroking his brother's blond hair absently as he debated returning home. They couldn't stay here all night, that was for sure. His own body began to shiver and his eyes grew heavy. He would just shut his eyes for a minute.

Kirsten Cohen took another large gulp of her Scotch as she switched off the news broadcast. She felt numb.

A soft touch to her shoulder alerted her to her husband.

"You O.K. , Honey?"

"It's just those poor kids, Sandy. I can't believe this sort of thing happens. I mean, what the hell were they doing out there, on a night like that?

Kirsten Cohen tucked her son in that night. She hadn't tucked him in since he was five years old and had announced that Superheroes really didn't need tucking up at bedtime, since they did most of their work at night, and so what would be the point?

Fin