8:25. The numbers seemed to stare up at Stile, taunting him.

You're late again, what a surprise.

He ripped off the cheap plastic watch in frustration, throwing it on his bed. The crimson-haired teen tapped his pencil off his paper, silently cursing Que for being so controlling. The science project could've waited one more week, couldn't it? He glanced out his cloudy window and sighed.

I can't wait any longer.

Easing out of his chair, Stile pulled on a jacket and a pair of gloves, and stuffed a dark-green bandana in his pocket. He rubbed his thumb along the familiar bulge of the small meat cleaver hidden inside. The floorboards creaked softly under his feet as he crept out of his room. He glanced to where Que lay on the couch, asleep. The bottle of pills that lay on the table next to her was alarmingly close to being empty.

He would have to buy more soon, but first he had to get the money.

Stile stuck a Post-It note on the fridge as he made his way to the front door.

Gone out w/ Ev Back soon. - S

As soon as he was out the chipped door or their apartment, he sprinted down the hall, taking the back stairs two at a time. A wave of cold air hit him once he opened the double doors, and he hesitated.

Should I be doing this? Is it really worth it?

Stile shook his head.

I have to. For Que.

Adjusting his jacket around his shoulders, he jogged to the end of the alley. The glistening city lights lay ahead of him, down a short dirt road. He pushed his legs to go faster, the chilly air rustling through his hair and making him feel alive, free. The streetlights lay out a path for him, scattering his shadow in multiple directions as he passed.

As Stile entered the city, the lights changed from a soft yellow to a harsh white, and the shadows seemed to be more defined, stretching across the walls like they were reaching for him...

"BOO!"

Stile jumped, holding his arms in front of his face to protect it. Peering through the crack in between his arms, he saw a glimpse of purple and brown. He lowered his arms and scowled.

"Evander, man, what was that for?"

The lanky African American just grinned cheekily.

"Hey, I can't help that you're so easy to scare, bro." Evander punched Stile's arm lightly, and blew a strand of curly hair out of his eyes.

"We have to go now, Ivan'll kill us if we're any later."

Stile shook off his fear and smiled. "Yeah, right. He'll probably end up killing us either way."

Evander chuckled. "True, true."

Then his eyes lit up.

"Last one to the meeting has to explain to Ivan why we're late this time!"

The tall, dark-skinned boy had already started running by the time Stile had the chance to reply.

"Alright, but you know I'll beat you!"

He allowed his smile to grow wider as he jogged after Evander. Everything was more fun when you had a friend.

- - - - -

Stile dangled his feet over the edge of the filthy green dumpster he sat on. The night seems to be getting colder by the minute, he noted, although that might just be because I've been sitting here for the past hour.

Cigarette smoke burned his throat with every breath, and he wanted to tell Ivan that smoking a pack in an hour probably wasn't the best decision health-wise, but he kept his mouth shut. The hefty gang leader sat by the brick wall of the alley a few metres away from him, his cold eyes watching Kaden and Halsey's half-hearted game of Crazy-eights. Evander was splayed out across another dumpster near the end of the alley, gazing at the stars.

Stile turned his eyes to the card game. Halsey slapped each card onto the pile, and a scowl creeped it's way across his cheek. His chestnut hair was bunched up in the bandana he had tied around his head (Which, if you asked Stile, made him look like an old woman) and his dark eyes flitted between his cards and Kaden. Unlike Halsey, Kaden didn't seem so on-edge. He picked at the rip in his cap as he studied his cards,I occasionally coughing as a stray cloud of smoke wandered his way. His deep purple hair hung almost to his shoulders, and Stile noticed that some of the dye was fading near the tips.

He sighed. You notice the smallest, dullest things when you're bored.

The waiting continued. Minutes seemed to last hours. The temperature dropped, and Stile found himself huddling into a ball to keep warm. Stars gleamed against the inky sky. The moon was a silver sliver, and looked like it would blink out of the sky at any moment.

Then, Ivan stood. Stile couldn't tell if it had been two hours or four. Either way, it was time for Stile to leave his spot on the dumpster. He stretched his legs out, narrowly missing Ivan's beefy shoulder. He leapt off the dumpster, crushing a soda can under his for as he landed. The other boys waited anxiously for Ivan's command.

"Let's go boys."