A/N: Sorry about the delay! *Dies. I know its been a long time, but if you've actually waited this long, all i can say is...What on Earth is wrong with you? Haha. Just kidding! Thanks for sticking with me, and to show how sorry I am, I should be uploading the next chapter very soon. Thanks to all my reviewers and people who've supported this story (though its still in the baby stages) Much love!
Disclaimer:JP owns the characters, unfortunately.
I awoke to the sound of distant rock music and the smell of freshly cooked bacon. Needless to say, it was enough to pull me from the groggy darkness of sleep. Stretching, I went to prop myself up on my arms. A gasp of pain escaped my lips, shocks of agony shooting up and down my arm. Carefully, I lowered myself back down, last night's events suddenly flowing back to me.
The last thing I remembered was falling down, my arm hurting like hell, then…nothing. So where was I now? Panic pulled at my heart as I scrambled to find a light in the musty room. I was in a bed-that much was certain. I hoped there would be a bedside table next to it. Finally, my hands met cool the wood of a dresser. On it stood a lamp. Pulling the chain, the lamp flooded the room with light, exposing a small, four walled bedroom, filled with various band posters that were an obvious attempt to cover up peeling wall paper. There was a small window, but it was shrouded with back-out blinds. What time was it? How long had I been out?
I slowly rolled out of bed, careful not to jar my wound-which I could now see had been bandaged up quite nicely- and crept into the hallway. Rock music blared louder now, a song I recognized to be by My Chemical Romance booming from one of the doors across from me. I passed the door, and, following the smell of bacon, I made my way toward the kitchen, where a boy I had never seen before was occupied with cooking, his back turned to me.
A few feet away there was the front door. If I was quiet enough, I could most likely make it there and out before anyone noticed me. I exhaled, taking a step forward and preparing to make a run for it when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
"I see you're finally awake." The cook said, turning around to face me, his pale eyes staring at a point a little bit about my head.
I nodded my head to him, slightly confused as to how he had heard me over the music. The boy smiled and reached out his hand. I just stared at it. What can you say? I'm just not much of a morning person. The boy smirked, and then turned back to the stove his hands feeling for the eggs next to him. Finding one with an 'aha!', the boy poured the yoke into the pan and stirred.
"My names Iggy." He said. "How do you like your eggs?"
Realizing my plan for escape was for the most part foiled; I sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. I was starving.
"Sunny-side up," I replied him, adding with some hesitation. "and I'm Max."
Iggy smiled, and then turned back to making breakfast as if having an injured stranger in the house was totally normal.
"Well Max, I hear you got yourself into a bit of a mess last night." Iggy stated simply as he added another egg onto the skillet. I looked down at my bandaged shoulder with disgust. "Luckily, the bullet just grazed you. It wasn't too hard to patch up." He continued, causing my eyes to look at the clean, tidy wrappings around my shoulder.
"Yeah, Thanks for that." I told him, relief flooding through me with the knowledge that the bullet didn't cause much damage.
"No problem." Iggy said, the smile evident in his voice. "Fixing broken things is kind of my specialty…even if I can't do anything to fix myself." He laughed then, but I could almost hear bitterness in that laugh, a longing.
Before I could say more, Iggy turned back to cooking, humming to a tune as he did so.
As Iggy cooked, I looked around the apartment curiously. It was cluttered, with random magazines, books, clothes, and shoes scattered around the place. A window on the far side of the living room was open, a cool breeze blowing in. With the wind came the sound of police sirens.
Then, as if from nowhere, a figure flung himself through the open window and into the living room. Clad in a black hoodie and skinny jeans, I recognized him immediately. It was the boy from last night. Upon seeing me, his face broke into a genuine smile, relief momentarily flooding his features. Then, as soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced by a look of indifference. I almost thought I had imagined it.
"Fang." Iggy said as he turned towards us, placing eggs and bacon on my plate. "Good to see you've escaped your adoring fans." Iggy laughed, indicating to the window in which the boy-Fang- had entered.
Fang shrugged, and then made his way to the table, where he plucked up a piece of my bacon off my plate and stuffed it into his mouth.
I opened my mouth to protest, but was silenced as Fang spoke.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes searching my own, daring me to lie.
"I'm perfect. Just dandy." I snapped, sarcasm dripping. I mean, I had been SHOT, I wasn't exactly feeling like rainbows and unicorns here. However, He HAD basically saved my life, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I owed him big time.
"Thanks," I added quickly, before I could change my mind. "I owe you one."
Fangs eyes flashed, but he just shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind..." He stopped short, and I realized he didn't know my name.
"Max." I said simply.
Iggy chuckled slightly and then looked towards Fang, a devious smile spreading over his face. To tell you the truth, it was kind of creepy.
"Fang here was worried about you when he first brought you in. You should have seen his face."
Fang grimaced in annoyance and shot Iggy the bird.
"I'm flicking you off, Ig." Fang specified.
I glanced at Fang curiously. Why did he need to tell him that? Iggy was looking almost right at him. Almost. The gears began to turn in my head, and my eyes widened.
I looked between the two of them, not really willing to voice my assumption out loud. Fang saved me the trouble.
"Iggy's bind." He stated simply, looking at his friend with an expression that could almost be pity, though the look was obviously lost on him.
A pang of guilt went through me. How hadn't I noticed sooner? What could I possibly say? I'm sorry? I didn't think that would cut it. I remained silent for a moment, searching for the right words.
"Oh… I didn't know", was my lame reply, and within seconds an awkward silence seeped in around us.
Nice job, Max. I scolded myself. Real smooth.
But Iggy didn't want my pity. "Don't worry about it", he laughed, standing up and moving over to lean on the kitchen counter. "I have many redeeming qualities that make up for it, like my sense of humor and my stunningly good looks." Iggy struck a mocking pose and Fang rolled his eyes.
"So where do you go to school?" Fang asked. I eyed him suspiciously, but let it slide. Never the less, these constant questions were making me uneasy.
"East." I answered simply, more focused on the looks the boys were exchanging than the conversation.
"That's about twenty minutes from my school." Iggy commented. Noticing Iggy had only said 'my school', My eyes went involuntarily over to Fang. What about him? Didn't he go to school?
He met my gaze, his expression a mask.
"I go to St. Thomas'." Iggy continued on, unaware of the silent battle Fang and I were having with our eyes.
The name rang a bell. It was known to be in a rougher part of town. In fact, a girl was shot about a block from there about a year ago. It was all over the news. The police suspected gang involvement. Though, with my experience, I didn't fully trust the cops, much less the public news. My mother, however, was in hysterics that day, because I had yet to come home when the news broadcast aired. She was freaking out, seeing as the girls description nearly matched my own.
My mom freaks out way too easily. Especially after what happened…
My eyes grew wide and I shot up out of my seat, only to jar my injured shoulder once more.
"My mom!" I exclaimed. "She must have been worried sick after I didn't come home last night!" I needed to get home NOW, before she flipped out too much. I began frantically digging through my pockets in search of my cell phone, hoping to at least call my mom, when Fangs hand shot out and grabbed my own, holding it in place.
"Don't." He said in a warning tone, his eyes boring into my own. "Think before you do something stupid."
"What?" I exclaimed, his words catching me off guard.
Fangs expression gave nothing away, but something in his eyes made me want to listen.
"How are you planning on explaining the giant, gaping hole in your shoulder to your mom?"
I stood in silence for a moment, my gaze lingering on my injury, as if an answer would come to me if I stared at it hard enough. Finally, I sighed in defeat, my mind having drawn a blank. My options were non-existent.
"I don't know." I sighed, clenching my fists determinedly.
Fang was right. I had no plan. If my mom found out about the shooting, I'd be locked in my house for the rest of my life…or at least until age 18. Either option didn't look good.
"Why not stay with a friend, someone you can trust, or maybe at a —"
"You could always stay here for a few days." Iggys said. My eyes widened, mental alarms going off once more.
"What?" Fang and I said simultaneously.
Something flashed behind Fangs eyes, and his jaw clenched slightly.
I stood up out of my chair, suddenly weary of my surroundings. I barely knew these people. Heck, I just met them officially this morning. I didn't know ANYTHING about them. How could I stay in their house?
The answer was simple: I couldn't.
But my best friend –the only person I could trust—was out of town…
"Only for a little while—until you can move your arm without screaming in agony. Your mom will never know." He added.
"Iggy. Think about what you're saying." Fangs voice was stern, warning. "We don't even know her."
Um. Hello? Still in the room here, bro.
But then again, he had a point.
"You let her in last night." Iggy told Fang, hoping to convince him.
"Last night she was bleeding out on the ground. She needed help, but-"
"How much damage can few more days do?" Iggy interjected.
"Enough." Fang answered, rising from his seat, and walking toward the window.
Iggy rushed over to Fang, and began whispering harshly, so that I couldn't catch what he was saying. Then, Fang said something back, motioning to me in frustration. Iggy retorted with narrowed eyes, and something like hurt flashed behind Fangs eyes for a moment, before his expression became stoic once more.
Anger boiled inside of me. How could they talk like this? I wasn't some lost puppy who needed a home. I was a person. I clenched my fists.
"Who says I wanted to stay here? I don't know you. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to." I snapped, loud enough for them to hear.
"Look. There's more at stake than just your shoulder." Iggy turned to me. His face had suddenly grown grave, his eyes pleading. It was as if there was something he wanted to tell me, but couldn't. Something important.
"Yeah? Well there's a lot at stake for us too, Ig." Fang cut in, opening the window in a single, fluid motion. "And I'm not going to wait around for this to blow up in your face. I'll be back when you come to your senses."
And with that, he jumped out of the window and onto the fire escape, the sound of his footsteps blending in with the noises of the city.
A few moments passed as I pondered over my situation. Despite my trust problems, I really only had one choice, if I wanted to spare my mom of a heart attack (which would defiantly occur, if she found out about my..er..wound).
I had to stay here for at least a few days. And now that Fang wouldn't be here to bother me, that didn't sound all that bad. But his sudden harshness towards me had been really strange. And..well, random.
"I'll stay." I told Iggy. "But seriously, what the hell was up with Mr Moody? He brought me in, now he wants to kick me out. What was his problem?"
Iggy merely shrugged, his unseeing eyes aimed in the direction Fang had left.
"I guess it's easier to handle you when you're unconscious." He stopped himself, and grimaced slightly, as if afraid he had insulted me. "What I mean is, Fangs a good guy. He saw you needed help, and he gave it. He didn't want anyone to be hurt. In fact, in some cases, I'm sure he'd be fine with letting you stay for a while. However, he's kind of in the middle of something at the moment, and he doesn't want anyone to..." He stopped again, choosing his next words carefully. "…pry in his business.
"I would never do that. Why would I? What do I care about him?" my voice was steady, but a small piece of me told me I was lying. He interested me… just a little bit. Why didn't he go to school? Why was he in the alley at all? What was he trying so hard to hide?
"It doesn't matter if you would or not. Fangs paranoid. Simple as that. Let him run things over in his mind, he's got a lot to deal with. He'll be back by midnight tops." Iggy glanced at the direction of the window, and then towards me.
"Now," he said with a slightly mischievous smile. "Lets start working on what story to tell dear old mom."