Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, they did make my day! (I'm easily
pleased like that!) Well, it's not Emma next, I'm afraid to say, but she'll
be coming along soon, I promise.
***
Christmas 1989
Brennan
Two teenage figures made their way down the street, one dark, tall for his age, striding along the street as if he owned it, even at his tender age. The younger one was smaller, slimmer, and walking in quick, uneven paces trying to keep up with his friend. It was plainly obvious that he held his older friend in awe. As they passed families enjoying their Christmas Day together, and young girls playing with their new presents in the snow, the younger boy noticed the familiar stares of female attraction being focused on his best friend. He saw that, as usual, he was not acknowledging them, and wondered whether the older boy ever actually noticed.
They had grown up together and been inseparable for years now, making it all the more significant that they should experience this important day together. This was going to be a big day for them. The day they graduated to the big league. The older boy was experiencing some twinges of conscience about dragging his young friend into it, but he needed the support.
Memories were running through his head as if he were watching a film. His mother came into focus, mouthing the words through the flood of tears. Slowly, the sound became clearer as he heard her words through the sobs. Telling him his father was never coming back. Telling him he would never get to know his father, never go to a game with him, never talk about girls with him.
He had naively always thought that his dad was in another part of the country, and he had been waiting patiently for someone to tell him where he was. He had finally grown impatient and asked his mother when he could go see his father. It still felt as if it was only yesterday, when in fact it had already been years ago. That had been his first experience of adults not always being sympathetic, or fair, or just right.
It wasn't fair that his father had gone off to fight. Wasn't fair that he had been shot down. No one had the right to disregard him and leave him there as if he was a worthless, replaceable piece of equipment. He was just left there to rot, or be executed, whatever came first.
He could feel the familiar tears welling up behind his eyelids, but he blinked them away, burying the self-pity and forcing the anger back into the forefront of his emotions. It just wasn't right. If this was the way humans were treated after a lifetime of rule-following and law-abiding, then he wasn't going to live by a set of principles they had concocted.
So far, his record extended to a few sweet shops. Today was going to be different - an expensive electrical appliances store. They approached the store, situated in a handy back street. They were confident in the fact that it would be empty and that the owner would be wrapped up at home with the wife and kids, enjoying Christmas morning. Blocking the younger boy's view with his body, he shorted out the burglar alarm with a handful of sparks, and they were in.
They chose the more expensive appliances, cramming all they could carry into the canvas bags they had brought with them. He didn't know what he was going to do with all this stuff. He certainly didn't want any of it. It was simply something to do. A way of getting back at the people who had robbed him of his father.
As they both left the store, his friend panting with the excitement from the dangerous situation, Brennan felt numb. They ran most of the way back to their secret hiding place, thankful of the sanctuary. They emptied their spoils onto the ground and the younger boy's eyes shone as he surveyed their success.
"Will you look at all this great stuff!" he breathed. "What are we gonna do with it all, Brennan?" he asked breathlessly. His companion remained silent, his dark eyes flicking over the games consoles on the ground. "Bren," the boy nudged him again.
"We'll spread it out between the children's ward at the hospital and the children's home," he finally decided quietly.
The boy stared at him in horror. "You can't do that!" he exclaimed.
"They're not ours," Brennan replied. "What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyways? If the police come searching your house, they'll find it all." The young boy looked thoughtfully at his best friend.
"I suppose you're right," he finally conceded. "Can't I keep just one?" he continued after a moment's quiet thought.
"Do what you want with your share, but I don't need any of this."
As he walked away from his hidden treasure, he could feel the void inside him constrict a little. He'd done it. Strike one against the establishment - and it was only the beginning.
***
I'm not sure whether to do Adam or not, so unless someone gives me an idea of what he might have been doing on Christmas Day 1989, I'll leave him out.
Please carry on reviewing anyway. This is so different to what I usually write, that I still need feedback.
***
Christmas 1989
Brennan
Two teenage figures made their way down the street, one dark, tall for his age, striding along the street as if he owned it, even at his tender age. The younger one was smaller, slimmer, and walking in quick, uneven paces trying to keep up with his friend. It was plainly obvious that he held his older friend in awe. As they passed families enjoying their Christmas Day together, and young girls playing with their new presents in the snow, the younger boy noticed the familiar stares of female attraction being focused on his best friend. He saw that, as usual, he was not acknowledging them, and wondered whether the older boy ever actually noticed.
They had grown up together and been inseparable for years now, making it all the more significant that they should experience this important day together. This was going to be a big day for them. The day they graduated to the big league. The older boy was experiencing some twinges of conscience about dragging his young friend into it, but he needed the support.
Memories were running through his head as if he were watching a film. His mother came into focus, mouthing the words through the flood of tears. Slowly, the sound became clearer as he heard her words through the sobs. Telling him his father was never coming back. Telling him he would never get to know his father, never go to a game with him, never talk about girls with him.
He had naively always thought that his dad was in another part of the country, and he had been waiting patiently for someone to tell him where he was. He had finally grown impatient and asked his mother when he could go see his father. It still felt as if it was only yesterday, when in fact it had already been years ago. That had been his first experience of adults not always being sympathetic, or fair, or just right.
It wasn't fair that his father had gone off to fight. Wasn't fair that he had been shot down. No one had the right to disregard him and leave him there as if he was a worthless, replaceable piece of equipment. He was just left there to rot, or be executed, whatever came first.
He could feel the familiar tears welling up behind his eyelids, but he blinked them away, burying the self-pity and forcing the anger back into the forefront of his emotions. It just wasn't right. If this was the way humans were treated after a lifetime of rule-following and law-abiding, then he wasn't going to live by a set of principles they had concocted.
So far, his record extended to a few sweet shops. Today was going to be different - an expensive electrical appliances store. They approached the store, situated in a handy back street. They were confident in the fact that it would be empty and that the owner would be wrapped up at home with the wife and kids, enjoying Christmas morning. Blocking the younger boy's view with his body, he shorted out the burglar alarm with a handful of sparks, and they were in.
They chose the more expensive appliances, cramming all they could carry into the canvas bags they had brought with them. He didn't know what he was going to do with all this stuff. He certainly didn't want any of it. It was simply something to do. A way of getting back at the people who had robbed him of his father.
As they both left the store, his friend panting with the excitement from the dangerous situation, Brennan felt numb. They ran most of the way back to their secret hiding place, thankful of the sanctuary. They emptied their spoils onto the ground and the younger boy's eyes shone as he surveyed their success.
"Will you look at all this great stuff!" he breathed. "What are we gonna do with it all, Brennan?" he asked breathlessly. His companion remained silent, his dark eyes flicking over the games consoles on the ground. "Bren," the boy nudged him again.
"We'll spread it out between the children's ward at the hospital and the children's home," he finally decided quietly.
The boy stared at him in horror. "You can't do that!" he exclaimed.
"They're not ours," Brennan replied. "What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyways? If the police come searching your house, they'll find it all." The young boy looked thoughtfully at his best friend.
"I suppose you're right," he finally conceded. "Can't I keep just one?" he continued after a moment's quiet thought.
"Do what you want with your share, but I don't need any of this."
As he walked away from his hidden treasure, he could feel the void inside him constrict a little. He'd done it. Strike one against the establishment - and it was only the beginning.
***
I'm not sure whether to do Adam or not, so unless someone gives me an idea of what he might have been doing on Christmas Day 1989, I'll leave him out.
Please carry on reviewing anyway. This is so different to what I usually write, that I still need feedback.