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❛ COME TOGETHER ❜ ・₊˚៹ . ❪ bohemian — act one ❫ ˖ ₊˚.⋆ 。✧˖° ࿐⠀┊ ⠀CH. 1⠀┊ 🏹🎨👻 ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
BOWIE SLAMMED HIS HANDS over his ears as the pounding on the door continued. Slowly, he slumps down, his back pressed against the door and his knees pulled under his chin as he screwed his eyes shut. He had hoped — no, prayed — that Dean would eventually go away and Bowie could go back to pretending he was an only child.
"Bowie? Come on, man!" Dean's voice carried in aggravation, his fist pounding against the wood. "I don't have all night."
The kitchen window slides up, and Bowie almost screams until he saw Katherine poke her head through, blowing at her blonde fringe with a look of pure annoyance. He watches silently as the girl shoved her whole body through the window and landed gracefully on her feet.
"Who the hell is that? And why are they banging on your door at three in the morning?" She seethed.
Bowie couldn't find it in himself to respond, his back thumping against the pounding door. His palms were sweating, and he couldn't help but pull at his fingers anxiously. Then, without much thought, he slides out of the way and pushes his Beretta toward her.
Katherine smirked and picked up the gun, seeming to understand what he wanted to say. Handle this. And before he could blink, she was pulling the door open, and Dean almost fell forward. She instantly points the gun at the center of Dean's head. "What's your deal."
Dean moves back, takes a second to register the gun pointed to his head and the pretty girl at the end of it, "My name is Dean." Seemed to be the only thing he could think to say, throwing in a charming smile.
The girl raised a brow. "Is that supposed to make me reconsider calling the police?"
Dean gave a throaty chuckle, "Look, kid—" Katherine lowered the gun from his temple to between his legs, and his smile quickly disappeared.
Bowie, who still sat behind the door, covered his mouth in an attempt to shift his laugh.
"All right, look. I'm just here to talk to my. .to my brother," There was hesitation on the last word, and it made Dean clear his throat at the awkward feeling. He hadn't referred to Bowie as his brother in six years, "It's important."
"Doesn't seem that important if he doesn't want to talk to you," She redirects.
He lets out an annoyed huff and looks past her into the apartment. "Bowie, listen to me." He began, his voice not as rough as it was the first time, "He went out looking for the thing that killed Mom, and he must've got something good because he isn't answering his phone. I got one location, just one. People are going missing in the town and it's the last place he was."
