Shining in the sky, the moon was crescent-shaped and reminded Zeref of a mouth. A mean mouth, curled into a mean grin. Menace was in the air, as it had been in the bar. He thought walking out of that finger-grease-stained door and into the July air would dispel the tension but he was wrong. Voices followed him out into the parking lot and he wondered if he was going to again feel his knuckles burn, burn, burn.
"I wouldn't have even bothered." Eileen's voice didn't quaver like other girl's might. Like the moon, she was mean. Zeref looked at her sideways.
"I don't like people talking about my brother."
"There were three of them." And now they gathered at the front of the bar and jeered.
"So what?"
She stepped in front of him and started to walk backward. Much gentler than he believed, she touched his split cheek and wicked away the blood. Eileen was fascinated with red. Zeref knew it was vanity that made her that way.
"Nothing, I guess."
Zeref pulled out his package of cigarettes and grumbled when he realized that not only did he bruise his knuckles and get his face split over a comment about Natsu that he couldn't even remember, his cigarettes were all mashed, broken in two. "Fuck."
"The store is still open." Zeref looked up the desolate street and found the tangerine coloured light from the Bee Mart staining the ground less than a kilometer away. Eileen smiled and it looked less razor-edged. "I'll even go in for you; you're a mess."
"Thanks," Zeref said insincerely.
Eileen took his hand; she only ever did this when she was high. Zeref didn't mind, he needed all the help he could get standing. The further away from the bar he got, the more his head spun. "Every time I come out with you, there's trouble. I thought maybe it was Natsu that was the instigator but you do well enough on your own, don't you?"
"They deserved it." Zeref weaved past a small locksmith's building. The Bee Mart was close. Close enough he could smell the dumpster it shared with the Vain's, the restaurant next door. Drunk meant he didn't gag on the scent.
A diesel engine revved; Zeref turned away from the dark alley he stared down and watched a green pickup truck tare down the street. It slowed right up when it got to the curb to Zeref's left; the window came down. A glass beer bottle came flying out next and smashed in front of Zeref's feet close enough that amber fluid splattered the toes of his leather work boots. It didn't smell like beer. Laugher chorused out and tires squealed. The truck was gone.
"Fuck sakes," Zeref swore and Eileen shook her head.
"You've started a war, I fear."
"Get back here!" Zeref screamed.
The truck was gone.
Eileen sighed and pulled him into the Bee Mart's light. "You're definitely staying here now."
Zeref pulled from her grasp and threw his back against the store's poured cement wall. It was uneven and bits of sharp cement dug through his shirt and stabbed him. Despite that, he didn't move. Eileen took one last look at him. "Don't wander." And then she was gone. Zeref put his hand in his pocket and took out his phone. Natsu's name was on the screen. Beneath in a text bubble he said, 'I'll be there soon.'
Zeref texted back, 'Don't bother. We're heading back.' His autocorrect couldn't save his drunk mash of the keys.
'Everything alright?'
'Fine, just quiet. Not worth it. We'll set up Mario Cart and chill instead.'
Natsu's reply was long in coming. Eventually, he said, 'I'll see you soon.'
Zeref put his phone back in his pocket and looked through the store glass for Eileen. She stood by the cash and had her phone to her ear, distracted enough that when headlights washed into the parking lot, she didn't look up. Zeref didn't, either. He recognized the drone of the green F150's '83 engine and knew he was about to get his wish.
Doors slammed and he didn't move. Not yet. Words came; they washed over him. Laughter; in one ear and out the other. Taunts, too. He didn't get nervous until he heard the metallic clang of an aluminum baseball batt. He dug the heavy weight of his knife from his pocket. It was illegal, that black and red switchblade but he'd learned to carry one. Natsu had a penchant for getting into trouble and Zeref had a penchant for following him down the rabbit hole. Sometimes, the altercations could be solved with fists, sometimes, a little fear was needed.
When Zeref finally turned, there was no fear in these men's eyes. There was anger. There was brazen drunkenness. There was malice. Tonight was a night for regrets Zeref feared as he brandished his knife. It wouldn't be the first time he used it. It was the worst, though.
Sticky. Blood was sticky when it dried in the brisk autumn wind, facilitated by his fast-walk. Zeref rubbed his palms first on his shirt first and then on his jeans because his middle hurt. That was the first time he'd tangled with a baseball batt.
His fingers still tacked together. He rubbed his palms again and felt the lump of the knife he'd put back into his pocket. It was dirty. It'd probably just get thrown into the river where it met the lake at the end of the pier, where the water was dark and turbid and silt sloughed out into the greater waterbody in gross amounts after heavy rainfall.
His heart had a disconnected rhythm he couldn't shake and in his mind, he kept seeing slack faces seconds after he'd plunged the knife into thin chests.
Sweat tracked down his temple. Behind him, he heard Eileen's vocal cuss. She never called him back and Zeref never slowed for her. She would find her own way. She always did. Sidewalk disappeared beneath his feet, roads, too. He dodged cars sitting still in parking lots, he raced across what was a busy highway when it was daylight hours. There was only one car on the road. Two AM assured Magnolia was asleep.
On the opposite side of a road was a ditch filled with flowering cattails and standing water; it had been rainy recently. Zeref didn't think about that as he splashed through and soaked his pants all the way up to his crotch. His boots stuck in the mud and came out with a slurp that was echoed by an unhappy bullfrog. Both sounds were drowned out by blades slicing through the air; a helicopter. Fear catapulted through Zeref. He swerved away from the road and cut through lawns because sirens were screaming now, too. Every breath he took made him move faster until he wasn't walking anymore but running, and then he wasn't just running, he was flying.
Most lawns were nearly trimmed; he still tripped. Scrambling over fences meant that boards dug into his skin and later, bruises would bloom. Zeref didn't dare slow. A bright light beamed down from the sky and Zeref threw himself into a garden shed at the back corner of a lot belonging to a white-washed brick home. A lawnmower's steel frame scratched his legs and the door was sweaty in his hands. He peeked out the crack just as the helicopter moved on. The house that sat on a small hill had been dark but a light came, the occupants curious. Zeref burst out of their shed, gunning for the front yard. A cruiser roamed up the road between the back yard and the next lots. Zeref knew it wasn't easy to see through the forest to where he fought to escape but he was still terrified, sure that the cop was going to spot him despite all the black he wore or that the homeowners were about to open their door and spot him or that he'd get out to the next road and the helicopter would be back with heat signature equipment and he'd be done for.
He ran hard; sitting still would make sure he was caught.
There was a car on the road. Zeref ran out in front of it; he was committed. Breaks squealed and a man yelled; he had the kind of voice that Zeref associated with Authority. He almost stopped when he was told. Nearly. Sheer momentum kept him going.
"Stop!" that voice called again. Zeref leapt over a ladybug garden ornament in front of a log cabin; he crushed trout lilies. He obliterated a raspberry bush. Thorns dug through his jeans and cut his leg; they were sharp.
"Stop! Stop where you are!"
Zeref scrambled up a wrought iron fence and then he was in the forest. The helicopter came overhead again. Footsteps tromped over dead sticks. Zeref was faster. He made a hard left to the sound of the cop on his radio and came through a copse of honey locust. On the other side was the small bungalow he shared with his brother. The only light on was the one over the backdoor; the door itself was open. Natsu was a silhouette, only his bleached and dyed pink hair shining. Zeref got close; Natsu saw him running and shut out the back light to give him some cover. He said nothing as Zeref stumbled up the patio stones and when Zeref got through the door, he closed it and locked it and led Zeref straight into the washroom, leaving all the lights off.
Natsu methodically wrapped the knife in Zeref's soiled T-shirt. Both went into a bucket of muriatic acid their dad used to keep for cleaning up metal. Without being diluted, the evidence would be chewed through.
"Who saw you?" Natsu turned from the mess of the garage and looked at his spaced-out brother. He'd hit the pipe as soon as he was clean enough to do so and he'd calmed. His hands stopped shaking and his breath evened out and he stopped tweaking on adrenaline. Now he was burnt out. Rolling down off the high and the bottom looked soft.
"There was two of them in the truck and both are dead," Zeref said slowly.
Natsu used his tongue and played with his lip ring. "That's good." Good. Men were dead and that was good.
"They had a batt."
"I know." It'd hurt Zeref too much to put his shirt back on so now he sat naked from the waist up. His chest was a colourful spread of blues and purples and greens that would eventually turn yellow. There were broken ribs but there would be no hospital visit. Questions would be asked and neither one of them were ready to provide answers. "I'll cover in the shop tomorrow. And the next day, too, but you have to show up after." People would start to wonder why Natsu was doing the oil changes and the tranny services without any help.
Zeref finally took his eyes from the ceiling so he could fumble in his pockets for cigarettes that weren't there. Natsu passed him a pack off a workbench cluttered with wrenches and clamps and various types of hammers, ball pein's and clawed and club's. Zeref took one out and hung it between his lips. Without a lighter, he couldn't do much with it.
"Alright?" Natsu asked.
Zeref blinked. "Yeah."
"I'll take care of this." Natsu nudged the acid bucket with his foot. "And everything's going to be okay."
"You're a good brother, Natsu," Zeref said eventually.
Natsu took out a lighter and lit his cigarette for him, too. "I know."
I'm in a mood. I thought that meant I didn't want to write; I was wrong. I just wanted to write something ugly.
This story is loosely based in fact. Weeks ago, a man was stabbed in my small central Ontario town and the perpetrator ran through my back yard and beside my house in a panic. I haven't been able to stop wondering what he was thinking in that moment. What happened to him after.