Flay leaned against the outer wall of the house, his mind drifting onto what he'd done inside the place to the young one; though he knew it was wrong in a sense, he simply didn't care. He began to wonder exactly what it was that he'd done, but it never did seem to completely catch up with him in respect of the severity; that is, if there were any repercussions to it. He looked down as his arms dangled loosely at his sides. "I wonder...Did I do the right thing? Sure, he feels better but..." He sighed and looked up, a goofy grin spread across his face. "Oh well, now's not the time to worry about it. I guess...No, I won't see him..." He groaned. "School? Heh, no way he even goes." Feeling a little less than completely content, but close enough, he turned and made his way home, his steps heavy and slow.
He pushed open the front door, stepping inside with the utmost caution. He turned his head in each direction, taking in the not-so-familiar sight around him; he hadn't quite gotten used to all of it yet, but he knew he would eventually. He heard the muffled voices of his parents behind one of the doors, but he didn't dare to open it and see what was going on behind it; he'd made that mistake once before, which only got him a good talking to by both of his parents with his father taking the initiative. Instead, he decided to grab something from the kitchen before heading off to his room.
He went into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of peanut butter from the table-he'd set it out earlier along with one loaf of fresh bread they'd picked up on their way home the day before. He grabbed two pieces and a knife from one of the unpacked boxes near the back door. He dipped it into the jar and slathered it all over one of the bread pieces, leaving the other with nothing on it. He dropped the knife into the kitchen sink and slapped the pieces together. Feeling content with it, he turned and headed into his room, which was pretty small but large enough for him to be comfortable in it.
He sat down in the middle of the floor, munching on his peanut butter sandwich. He looked up, his eyes roaming along the bare walls, which he planned to cover with a few pictures later. He then looked at the door bearing chipping paint. He then looked down at the handle which didn't hold any luster to it. As he looked at it, he noticed that it began to turn. His father, a man who looked only to be a larger version of him, stepped in with his fiery hair messed up, springing up and around his entire head. "Son," he began, but he held his breath; Flay figured he was out of it since he had a feeling that he knew what they were doing together in the other room. "How'd your visit go? Did you make friends with her?"
Flay laughed. "Dad, he's not a girl, but a boy. Geez, get things right."
His dad didn't seem fazed by his mistake, but instead seemed proud of it somehow. "I could've sworn that your mother told me they had a daughter rather than a son. Either way, I guess you have someone to play with either way."
Flay shook his head. "No, he can't come out?"
"Why not?"
"He's sick, dad. Very sick." He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand.
"I'm certain it's just a cold or something, so don't worr-"
"No! You don't know anything!" He bit his lip as he looked into his father's shock-filled eyes. "Erm... Sorry..."
His father stepped to his side, leaning down to place a hand upon his shoulder. "Son, I'm sorry," he admitted. Getting down on one knee to try and get level with him. "I should know better than to assume. Either way, I'm certain he'll be okay. You've gotten pretty close to him so easily, haven't you?"
Flay looked at him. "You think so? I'm just worried; I don't like to see people hurt or anything, you know that."
He nodded. "Yes, I know. Just keep your chin up. As for me and your mother, we're going to work around the house for a little while, so you can go play or whatever unless we need you, alright?"
Flay nodded. "Okay." He watched his father walk out of the room, leaving him to sit alone. He groaned and stood up, wiping away the bread crumbs. He looked over at his half-made bed and smiled. He threw himself down upon it. "Now..." He chuckled. "Is the time to think."