Supernova Souls - Ryan Upchurch

-23-

Slowly, the rustling outside picked back up and the noises were louder and closer to the house than before. Then, he heard the click of an unfamiliar gun's trigger being pulled-but no bullet came from the gun's barrel. It was empty.

As if it was a reflex, he quickly grabbed the gun off the coffee table where it had been placed mere moments ago. He took a deep breath and spun around towards the window swiftly, his eyes meeting those of a darkened figure dressed in all dark clothing. Sure, Ryan was at a disadvantage here because he himself was barely clothed-hell, who would be fully dressed right out of the shower- but he didn't care.

Then, the figure outside the window's head tilted downwards slightly so Ryan couldn't decipher who it was. The person's face was hidden by the darkness and the shrubbery in his front yard.

With spiked adrenaline and a loaded pistol in his hand, and before he could stop himself, his feet carried him away from the window and stopped right in front of the door. Slowly, he turned the door handle.

Ryan knew he had the upper hand here, despite his utter lack of a shirt. He had a loaded gun in hand, three guard dogs and security surrounding his house. That dumb, mysterious figure had an empty gun and nothing else to protect themself with.

On second thought, I probably should've called security first but.. oh well.

He swung the door open and a bitter breeze floated past him, and the ghostlike figure with a tall silhouette that could've almost covered up the full moon stared back at him with dull brown eyes.

The figure pointed that same gun Ryan knew was for a fact empty at his head, finger on the trigger. "You move, and I'll kill you."

With no ammunition? Yeah, right. "With what? Air? I'm not stupid, bitch." Ryan narrowed his eyes at the figure he realized was now also a man, and a familiar one at that. He looked down at the gun in his hand and recognized the rusted out barrel.

The same one that blonde boy had.

Ryan raised his own gun, a crooked grin on his lips to match the sinister look in his blue eyes-the oceans within the blue color creating raging waves that reflected the silent battle inside his mind- and he pointed the barrel straight at the man's head, right between his eyes.

"I told you to keep your bitchass off my property if you value your life," he said, eyes staring straight into those of the man standing before him, right in front of the bottom porch step. "And you didn't, did you?"

The ends of the man's hair had slowly began to fluff out from underneath the cover of his hat. Blonde, fuzzy locks of hair fell from beneath the brim of the black trucker cap.

Blonde hair, brown eyes, tall and lanky..

Almost everything about him matched the description of the boy that was on his land just this morning. "How stupid are you? Coming back here twice in the same damn day? Was the dog scratch not enough for you?"

"How- how do you know who I am?" The boy stuttered, his voice shaky. He lowered his rusty gun to his side hesitantly.

"You don't even cover your face, dumbass, and you're just wearing a black version of what you wore this mornin'."

"Oh." The boy mumbled.

Ryan gestured with the gun towards the closed gate for the boy to leave. He just stared at him after watching the gun wave in his face.

Apparently, he was stupider than Ryan thought. It'd be a shame to kill such an ignorant kid. Given the chance, the poor kid would probably do something dumb and get himself killed in the process. Natural selection at its finest.

"Get out." He said simply. "Don't make me waste no bullet on you, boy."

Soon enough, the kid got the message and scrambled on wobbly legs back to wherever the hell he came from with that rusty, piece of shit gun in his hand. Ryan just laughed at the simple idiocy of the boy and went back inside. If he came back, he wasn't gonna play around with that kid anymore- and the Ashland City police department wouldn't be who the kid would be messing with.

By the time he finally made it beneath the warmth of his sheets with his now three dogs, it was pitch black outside and the shades the sunset formed had long ago faded, something he hated to see go, but the cover of night was his favorite time of day. Early mornings and late nights.

He tugged the sheets up to his chin and closed his eyes contently, happy to forget the events of the day and cuddle up close to his babies-Waylon, MJ and the unnamed puppy- in his bed and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Waylon curled into a ball at his feet, nose tucked by his tail, already snoring away and being the best boy like he always was. Mary Jane was laying on her side in front of Ryan, belly out towards the wall, half awake with his arm over her, lazily petting her soft fur. The puppy was laying behind Ryan with his little black nose poking the sheets that covered the back of Ryan's knees, sleeping like Waylon, though his snores were a lot more muted and soft than Waylon's aggressive, train-sounding snores.