Gone Too Soon

By DaveTheWordsmith

Disclaimer: Boondocks is owned by Sony Pictures Digital Inc. and Aaron McGruder. All the copyrights associated with Boondocks belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

Note: While I wrote the next chapters for "Choices", "More Than Friends" and "Walk In My Shoes", this fic popped into my head. I wrote the ideas down before I could forget them, but then I kept writing and writing and writing and...well, you get the idea. It eventually transformed into a small fic I wanted to share. Thanks for taking the time to read this fic. Do not hesitate to leave feedback, whether good or bad.

Crunch. I can't believe it.

Crunch. He's really gone.

With each slow, heavy step up the large hill, a deep imprint of the tall, thin black man's black Doc Martens boots remained as the aftermath of the grass's losing battle to the man's shoe. At the sign of cold, dry wind that blew with reckless abandon upon his buttoned up black shirt and matching Dickies pants, he stared upward at the gray, overcast sky. Travelling so long on foot made him forget how much time elapsed, almost two hours to be exact. Once he reached the top, he glanced at his watch. 4:56 PM, it read on its simple white face, the hour hand on the black six, the minute hand just moving a notch over to read 4:57. A few seconds later, he sat down in his usual spot under the giant tree at the apex of the hill. The sixteen year old boy threw his backpack by the tree and then clutched the collar of his neck with one hand to undo the top button and slip the white tie out. He tossed it a few feet away. He didn't want it anymore. A few laughs burst from his lips. It was the same rotten tie that took him an embarrassing five minutes to set-up in a sloppy Windsor knot, all for an event he did not want to witness. The cool air stung his eyes; ones he knew contained a few tears, tears he hadn't let go in many years.

He gathered a large amount of air in his mouth, keeping his cheeks from inflating. After an emotional, long release of the air, he shook his head. It took a few hours for it to finally hit him. "I can't believe it. He's really gone."

He sat there, legs casually sprawled out in front of him. Seconds, minutes, even an hour passed by without much of a care. The wind, the light drizzling of the rain and the sudden sound of light footsteps did not affect his concentration. He just sat there. He watched the barely visible sun shrouded by the thick clouds start its journey to set behind the various buildings afar. Nothing could change his emotions that engulfed his strong heart.

A young, slender, light skinned girl the same age as the boy made her presence by her hand that fell warmly on his shoulder. He looked out his peripheral vision and only saw light orange in his view. His head rotated to the left, eyes alert of the smaller figure nearby, her thick, orange sweater sticking out like a sore thumb. The girl sat down next to him, knees covered by her blue jeans bent upward, her black Keds canvas shoes flat on the ground, arms stretched out behind her for support.

Her green eyes flashed when she blinked, head cocked a little to the side. "You okay?" she asked.

The boy turned his head away from her. He refused to look, not at a time like this. A single tear trickled down his left cheek. A hand wiped it away. His other hand grabbed the girl's hand and removed it from his shoulder. "What do you think?"

He wanted to scoff at her. How could she ask him such a question? After a sudden death of someone he cared about as much as he knew they cared about him, someone would think the person who experienced the loss would be melancholy, at least for that day, and would rather be left alone.

The girl joined the boy in his act, looking off into the endless sky. She scratched the back of her neck, her orange, curly hair arranged in two large separate afros barely allowing her to do so without lifting them up first.

She whipped out a small, white handkerchief from her pocket. She dabbed it gently under each eye. "I was only asking. I was worried about you. You didn't stay for the rest of the service. It was very moving. I think he would've liked it," she said. Too late to take her words back, she gasped out loud, hand over her mouth, for speaking of the dead.

He exhaled roughly through his nose. He said, looking straight ahead, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay."

Then, there was silence. That was all he heard before he closed his eyes, his head resting gently against the smooth bark of the tree. All he could think of was that eerie night, a week ago, a day he did not want to remember.

"Yes," a middle aged woman glanced at the filled out form on her desk. "Huey Freeman, you may see him. Be careful, he's not in the best condition."

"Okay, thank you," he said the lady at the desk. Dressed in an all black suit with a white button-up shirt underneath, he ignored the sweat that gathered on his neck and chest as he ran down the plain white hallway filled with numerous doctors in their white coats, patients in their gowns and purple and white suited nurses. Was it room 226, or 227? He thought through the loud beeps, some unintelligible moans and groaning from one room he ran past and doctor speak people muttered. He didn't care. He'd eventually find him. As soon as he received the call, without a second thought, he adjourned his political hip-hop meeting to discuss the Illuminati. The Illuminati would still be there after this was all over with. He had to make it to the room at the end of the hall. There was no turning back.

His running slowed down to a more comfortable walk, yet he continued a brisk step once he reached the room. The door partly open, he peeked inside. The slightly younger boy was there, lying in the hospital bed, IV stuck in his arm, various tubes in his nose, his chest, and who knows where else. The beeps from the machines at different sides of the room hooked up to his body gave the visitor chills that ran up his spine and fingers. He closed the door and slowly stepped to the weakened boy, barely hang on. A much older man sat by the boy on the other side of the bed, clutching his hand the boy had in his lap as if it were a way to completely revive him.

"How has he been doing?"

The old man sighed with his eyes closed. He opened them. "They said he's critical right now. He was awake earlier but he fell asleep. Ole cutie pie that showed up to see him couldn't stay for long. Poor thing, she started cryin' soon as she saw him…such a sad sight to see."

Poor Cindy… Huey thought. The thought of his brother Riley in such a horrible state never entered his mind. After all of the close encounters Riley went through and did not end up with any fatal injuries, the last thing he feared was Riley in a critical condition.He remained by his resting brother's side, looking down at him with what on the outside looked like an emotionless stare. On the contrary, he couldn't have felt anymore of a loving and caring brother than at that moment.

"Huey."

Huey's eyes lit up. He peeked over his shoulder at his grandfather who stood in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Take over my spot for a few hours. I'm gonna go check up on the house and then update everyone on his condition."

Huey said with a nod, "Okay."

He went back to watching his brother. The low footsteps from his grandfather became softer and softer as he left the room and departed down the hall.

The minutes passed by and added up to an hour faster than Huey could keep up. He couldn't realize that much time lapsed so quickly. He turned to look out of the nearby window. Of all the days before where the sun didn't know how to quit giving them its unbearable heat, it had to be a dark and gloomy day. A few groans and coughs cut through the nerve wracking quiet air. Huey's left ear caught the sounds and he turned in that direction. Below him, his little brother's bruised and deep cut covered head lifted a little before it fell back down onto the pillow.

He said after a few more raspy coughs. "Sup…Huey…."

Huey grabbed a nearby chair and placed himself in it. Hunched over, he looked at what remained of his brother, various white bandages stained with dark and light red blotches wrapped around different parts of his arms and neck. "Hey."

He tried his best to speak, although his voice remained in a low, raspy whisper. "You was right. I shoulda kept mah dumb ass at home…" he said with a small smirk.

Huey frowned. "Riley, stop it."

"C'mon nigga, you gone' let me talk," he said. "I been heah two days now. Buh'sides you, Granddad, Cindy 'n Jazmine, no one else's come 'n seen a nigga. All dem otha niggas can suck a dick."

"Not even Ed and Rummy?"

"Oh yea, dey called me dis mornin. Dey said ta still be heah when dey come by tomorrow. Dey outta da country rite now in Afghanistan, helpin' Ed's granddad wit somethin."

Doing who knows what, Huey said in his mind. "Did Thugnificent stop by?"

A longer than usual pause lingered before he finally said, "…Man, fuck dat nigga. Talkin' bout he couldn't make it 'n how he workin' on his reality show dat I helped him get. He can eat a dick up til he hiccup."

Huey shook his head. Niggas always had to be niggas, he thought. As Riley continued to talk to him, Huey pondered more thoughts. Could he really think of his own brother Riley as a failure, an embarrassment and a street urchin, otherwise known by people like Huey as a nigga? He tried to show Riley the right way to do things: the proper diet to maintain, the best music to listen to, what causes to stand behind. The result always ended the same: no progress made. But deep down, through all of the numerous fights and arguments and name-calling they went through, Huey still loved and cared for his younger brother. Something he saw in Riley's vulnerable eyes made him focus on his words.

"…and when dem niggas shot and cut me mo' times den 50 Cent eva has in his lifetime, I was like fuck dem niggas. Good thang Ed and Rummy had my back doe cuz dey shot up all dem niggas like Tony Montana and Nino Brown 'n den got me outta dere in time. But I ain't think I was gone wake up again, fa real," he said. Once he lifted his head up from his pillow, Tears started to pour from his eyes. "But den I started thinkin' bout what'chu said dat mornin' before I left, when you said not to go cuz you knew da lil hustle me 'n Ed had goin' wasn't gone' do shit but get us in prison or killed, 'n you was right. When I got here 'n dey took dem bullets outta me 'n dey shoved all dem tubes 'n shit in me, 'n all dat pain went through mah body…I wanted ta get outta dis life. I wish…I wish I coulda listened to you…'n done betta. Deep down, I had a feelin' 'dis shit wasn't really fa me…I was jus tryin ta be da shit, dat real nigga…but if I coulda been mo like you, I wouldn't be heah with all dis shit hooked up ta me…"

Huey lowered his head. He felt them coming. "Shut up, Riley. Just shut up."

"Man, Huey…you gone' talk like dat ta me…in all dis pain I'm in?"

Huey leaned back in his seat, unable to stop the water gathered in his eyes from falling. "Yes. And stop talking like that. You'll pull through, all right?"

Riley shook his head. "I'm Riley Escobar, nigga. I'll be heah. Ain't no eleven bullets gone' stop me."

"That's the Riley I know."

More minutes passed with nothing but the numerous beeps from the machines. A few nurses came by to check on Riley and then left. A minute later, Huey swallowed the large lump in his throat. He could feel it travel through his esophagus and splash into his empty stomach. "Riley?"

"Yeah? Sup?"

He bit his lip. Should he tell him, or not? He watched Riley's eyes that glared at him as if to say 'say somethin' nigga'. He folded his arms across his chest. "This isn't easy to say…through all the unnecessary, ignorant, trivial shit we went through…you'll always be my brother, and…I love you."

Huey expected Riley to explode in a large fit of laughter, through all of the aches and deep wounds in his body. However, Riley's only hand not wrapped in bandages rose and slowly crumpled up into a fist. Huey matched his gesture and bumped fists. "Luv you too, Huey," he said. "Jus don't…tell nobody I said dat shit…or I'll kill yo ass."

Huey nodded with a tiny smile on his face. Riley said, before laughing followed by a few coughs, "Man, we actin'…gay as hell rite now…"

Huey chuckled for a few seconds, glad to see a smile on Riley's face. Even a gay joke, directed at him or someone else, would be nice instead of a grimace or depressed look on Riley's face.

"I don't care. You're my brother. There's always a pass on acting gay with your brother, especially right now."

Riley grunted as he lowered himself in his bed. "…I guess you…right…like you usually is…" he said. His eyes fluttered for a while before they stayed shut. His face relaxed as he let out a soft sigh from his closed lips. The steady beeping in the background switched into one never-ending tone.

"Riley," he said. When his brother gave him no reply, he shot out of his seat, eyes wide open. "Riley. Riley! Riley!"

Drip, drip. Drip…drip, drip. Drip, drip, drip, drip…

He flinched a little at the soft, warm hand that patted his shoulder. The cold rain started to fall faster by the second.

"Jazmine?"

"We'd better go, Huey."

He felt glad the rain could splash on his face and cover the tear marks over his cheeks. If it wasn't for the sharp, cold win that hit his face over and over like a boxer's punch, he would stay on the hill for the rest of the night.

Huey lifted his hand into view and flicked his wrist to adjust his watch. 6:59 PM, it read. "Right," he said. "Rest in peace, Riley."

After Huey grabbed his backpack and even the tie he earlier on wished to discard, the two sixteen year olds began their descent down the hill back to their respective homes.

Once they reached Timid Deer Lane, the rain slowed down and decreased in intensity to a light drizzle. He looked to his right at Jazmine, who kept looking straight ahead. For some reason, he felt a little more aware of her presence. She stopped after Huey did once they reached his residence, Dorothy parked in the driveway. She looked up at the six-foot two retired domestic terrorist, one eyebrow arched.

She fiddled her thumbs in her 'lap', legs crossed. Watching him stare at her, she decided to cease the weird silence between them. "Huey?"

To avoid talking himself out of it, he quickly approached her and brought her into an embrace, one Jazmine moaned at in complete surprise. She brought her arms around him in return as he continued to hold on, breathing in her sweet, warm scent, one he would not reveal at the moment always made him feel better. After what felt like a lifetime, he let her go but still held onto her trembling hands. He felt a little embarrassed at the fact he made her face turn bright red.

Huey released her hands. "Sorry about the way I acted earlier."

Jazmine raised her hand, shaking her head. "No, it's okay," she said.

Huey continued to look in her bright eyes a few moments longer before turning to head to the front door. He caught Jazmine wave at him, make her request known to meet again the next day and then walk back to her place. Huey stopped in front of the door and lifted his head to the sky. As if it were scripted in a typical cheesy movie, the large orange-red sun rays poked through the ominous clouds. Two twin rainbows made their presence known over a few houses in the distance.

He smiled a large smile, one he hadn't done in a very long time. "Now that's gay."

...