"Sora!"
"nngghh"
"Sora! Wake up!"
He awoke with a start, shooting up and gasping for breath, the sweat trickled down his face as he took in his surroundings. The world came into focus; his brother was standing at his side.
"What happened?" Sora asked hoarsely.
"You told me to wake you when it was eleven," his brother shrugged. He looked closely down at the sweating boy on the bed. "Are you alright?"
Sora took a few moments before nodding. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure?" his brother pressed.
"I said I'm fine, Roxas."
Roxas studied his face and Sora unconsciously drew back.
He shrugged. "If you say so," and left the room. Sora released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding and threw his legs over the bed, feeling the floor stress under him. He drew back the window curtains and stared out at the late morning Brooklyn streets.
Their apartment was not the pinnacle of luxurious living, just another dingy living space amongst many in the housing projects of eastern Brooklyn. It held a single bathroom, two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen area, and their living room, complete with a couch and television. Sora sighed and entered the bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for the water to warm.
"You know," Roxas called from somewhere down the hall, "mom hasn't been back for a while."
Sora said nothing, waving his hands under the cool jet of water, willing the temperature to rise.
"It's just," his brother continued, "she's usually back by now, y'know? I mean, I know she does what she – I'm just saying, she usually doesn't take this long."
Sora closed his eyes; his brother had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous. His hand was beginning to turn numb under the cold stream.
"I'm thinking maybe we should – uh, maybe we should go look for her, maybe?"
The jig was up; the temperature would not budge.
"Goddamn it!" Sora seethed, he turned the nozzle shut, quickly brushed his teeth, and stormed back into his room, hurriedly pulling on a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt before exiting into the living room.
"Sora? Did you hear what I said?"
"I fucking heard," Sora muttered.
"Well, what do you think?" his brother queried, he was all dressed up in his typical attire, ripped jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. When they didn't have enough money for designer rips, Roxas took it upon himself to carve out his own. When Sora had asked why he had done it, Roxas said he had wanted "greater authenticity", whatever that meant.
"I think mom's gonna do what she's gonna do, and until then we have to worry about ourselves. I'm going to go get us some food, you want anything?" Sora asked.
Roxas shook his head mournfully.
"Okay," Sora said, "While I'm gone, why don't you see what's up with the hot water," and then he pulled the door shut behind him and was off.
Brownsville Brooklyn, Sora had been born and bred in this neighborhood. In fact, he couldn't recall a single time in his life that did not occur somewhere on these streets. He had always found, trying to peer across the East River at the city skyline, that his view was obstructed by smog, or simply other buildings.
He strolled down the sidewalk, trying not to breath in too much of the muggy air that was bearing down on him. The smell always repulsed him; it stank of sewage and discarded litter. He paused at the appropriate crosswalks, waited for the streetlights to turn red, and pressed onwards. He was nearing his destination, the little old Deli run by a jovial old fellow, Pete. He'd been a patron of Pete's Deli for so long now that his weekly runs to the store had become nigh ritualistic. Pete knew exactly when to expect him, down to the very hour.
The door jingled as he entered, not very crowded today, then again it never really was.
"Ah, Sora, I was beginnin' to get worried there," Pete greeted from behind the counter, the smile never leaving his face. It never did, Sora noted to himself.
"Hey Pete," he smiled back to the very best of his ability. He had to pride himself on trying.
"So what'll it be today? Just got a new shipment of smoked ham, top line stuff," Pete grinned.
"Oh, I don't know," Sora let himself linger at each item on display, his fingers tracing their packaging aimlessly.
"How's yer brother doing? He hasn't been around for awhile," Pete noted. Sora could tell he was trying to keep the unspoken question out of his tone, but he had acquired an ear for that.
"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. Got a job, I think," Sora nodded to himself. There was a discount on all white meats. Was it a holiday?
"And yer mom?"
The whole chicken looked very tempting. Only nine ninety nine for the day, what a bargain!
"She's good."
He took the chicken off the shelf and handed it to Pete, who promptly rang it up for him and placed it in a bag. Sora deposited the munny on the counter.
"Keep the change," he said, motioning for Pete to leave it as he dug into the register. Pete only too happily complied.
"Things're lookin' up, I tell ya," Pete said as he handed Sora the bag, "All the new folk comin' in down from the north, got all them rich kids coming down ta buy whatever. Was afraid I was gonna have to shut down for awhile there," Pete's mouth curved into another big smile. "Say, doesn't school start soon?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sora replied, "tomorrow."
"Oh, well, good luck to yer, I remember when I was your age…"
At this point Sora tuned out, nodding and mumbling an assent when necessary, then he gathered up his chicken and bade farewell to Pete, all too eager to speed out the door.
Back on the streets, Sora hurried back the way he came. He had spent longer than he would have liked listening to Pete chatter on. Get in and get out - that had been his refrain, the one he would repeat over and over in his head every time he had to venture out into Brownsville. But God enjoyed playing dice.
"Hey!"
Sora halted unwillingly, the rough voice stopping him in his tracks.
"Ay! Where dya think you're going?"
He turned and was greeted with the sight of the three young gentlemen he had come to acquaint himself with over the past summer. Huey, Dewie, and Louie, friends with oddly similar names, they were the neighborhood goon squad, as he liked to think of them. They'd taken an interest in him one day when he'd cut through an unfamiliar neighborhood in the interest of saving time. He had barely escaped with his bones intact. Ever since, they'd made sure to try to catch him on his way home from the deli.
His heart was pounding and he could feel his legs growing weaker as they approached. Running looked to be the only option, but where? Home? If they knew where he lived that would be the end of it.
"Whaddaya got there, huh?" Dewie hollered, pointing at the bag in his hand. Sora opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out.
"Whas' the matter? Are you scaaaared?" Huey jeered. "Don't worry; we just want what you got there."
"It's mine," Sora mumbled.
"What? What was that?" Louie called, putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't hear ya, wanna say that again?"
Feeling had returned to Sora's legs. He took a short breath and kicked himself backward, speeding off down the road. He could hear the boys calling behind him.
"Ay!"
"Get back here!"
He sprinted ahead, down and down the street, winding his way between cars and people, ahead and ahead, putting as much distance between him and them as he could manage. He ran and ran and ran.
Finally, when he was certain he'd put a suitable distance between himself and the boys, and his legs felt like they were about to burst, he stopped. Bending down to catch his breath, he looked down at his chicken. It had been mashed about in its package, the chicken looking positively unwholesome and inedible.
He leaned against the wall of an alley, the dank and musky stench of garbage seemingly wafting out from the concrete, and he felt a ripple of anger course through him. He thought back to his own performance, his inability to speak in the face of the advancing hoodlums, and he felt shame.
His eyes burned and for a moment he thought he would cry, but he took a breath and peeked out from behind the alley. Satisfied that the danger had truly passed, he trudged down the street and back towards home, making sure to stick close to the alleyways.
Roxas was still there when he entered the apartment, feet stretched over the length of the couch and dozing off. He looked up as Sora shut the door.
"Hey, what'd you get?" he asked.
"Chicken," Sora simply replied, emptying the malformed chicken onto the kitchen table.
"That's chicken?" Roxas asked skeptically, getting up to take a closer look.
"That's chicken," Sora deadpanned.
"Um…can I ask what happened to it?"
"It was a long walk."
"Okay?"
"Heat it up when you're hungry," Sora droned, moving to return to his bedroom.
"Um, alright. Yen said they're doing renovation on the pipes, so the water should – "
"Great," he slammed his door shut.