See What's Mine || b.u.

18: I See The Shadows

Brendon acquired a phone in his left hand and studied his right on the wheel. After typing a number, veiled from my eyes, he pulled the phone up to his ear and initiated a conversation.

"Hey.... Yeah, I need you guys to meet me somewhere.... Well where is he?...... No, that's ridiculous. Yes I have her...... Over by.. Is Mel home?.... Well she lives close, meet us there, hurry."

And with that Brendon agitatedly discarded his phone to the console, running a distressed hand through his hair. I thought it might not be the best time to inquire questions, considering he looked about as irritated as I had seen, so I sat back and glowered out the window, questions teeming at my fingertips.

/-/-/

The car conclusively stopped, and before us, a substantial pink house was planted in the soil. Brendon hurried me to the steps, and upon reaching the doorbell, a small girl slung the door open before Brendon had the chance to knock.

"BREN!!" She roared, firing herself into Brendon, nearly reaching her arms around his neck. He staggered back, placing his hands scrupulously on her so that he could aid to the massive bear hug he had received. "ITS BEEN AGES!"

I placarded her rare features. Her hair was parted down the middle, bangs separating the half pink, half black color scheme that was streaked through her hair. She resembled a sort of youthful teen, a child-like gap pushed between her front teeth. Purple eyeshadow stained her skin and the color of fresh blood was painted on her lips. Her soft cheeks looked tear-stained, as if she had been crying for days and suddenly the tears ceased at the appearance of Brendon.

"Last time I saw you must've been the time when we hit up the mall, remember? And the police!! They were like *pew pew* and everyone was like 'Ahhhh,' anyways it was super fun!" The small framed girl rushed her words out, her character gleaming through her tattooed skin. She glimpsed at me, and then shot a double take my way, covering her mouth with a hand in astoundment. "Is this her?"

Brendon snickered, sinking his hands in his coat pocket. "That's her,"

She took a step closer, facing my direction. Her face was of disbelief, as if she was in the presence of a queen. "It is my honor to meet you, Ambris." She smiled, jutting out a hand. I coyly took it, disarray darting on my tongue. "I'm Mel."

"Melanie," Brendon followed, disclosing her full name. "She's a part of the team,"

The team? What te-

"Come in, please!" She addressed, pushing her large door back to divulge a baby blue room. Large frames filled with plush paintings of a curly headed children scaled the walls. Stuffed animals were positioned on the sofa, ready for tea-time while a large doll house posed in the corner. I felt Brendon percieve my aura as he leaned in next to me.

"Melanie has a personality disorder. She still thinks she's 8 years old." He disclosed to me. Maybe it was the look on my face that gave it away, but I was as confused as I was consumed with curiosity about this girl.

"So, what's the news?" She interrogated, plopping on the couch to accompany her teddy bears.

"We have somewhere to be." Brendon slightly acknowledged. He didn't seem to want to speak of it and was acting very bizarre.

"Today? Where's the other guys?" She uttered with question.

"I'm not sure. And yes, if we can make it." His fingers delicately traveled across the cheeks of a painting which depicted a crying, curly haired girl who stood in the middle of a flooded room, milk bottles and rattlers floating like safety devices.

"If they don't get here soon we need to go." Brendon spoke. His voice expressed agitation and suspense, and I could tell he was not happy.

"Bren, just take a seat, they'll be h-"

And as if Melanie was a fortune teller, a car door cracked outside and two figures dressed in black advanced towards the front door.

"What's poppin', bitch face?" The tallest man entreated, keeping his shades to shelter his eyes. My mind revolved. Too many people all at once. And "bitch face???" What does that even mean?

Brendon saluted the two men and twisted his attention in my direction. "This is Ambris," He inaugurated, and the tallest again mumbled to himself.

"G'afternoon m'lady, how's your boyfriend?"

Thinking he was alluding to Brendon, I made up an instantaneous assumption about him. The Californian punk ass.

"I don't have one," I confirmed confidently, assenting his handshake. He narrowed down his glasses to reveal strikes of hazel and spoke tenderly, "Guess we'll have to sync some new settings pretty soon, huh?"

I wanted to scream. I did not like guys hitting on me like that. Assumption, correct.

"Jess," The shorter man dressed in black warned. He must've read my emotions pretty quickly to realize I wasn't esteeming the situation. Or he knew how this "Jess" guy could be. "Hi," His hand became affixed with mine and puppy brown eyes were my first impression. But his Manchester accent was what I noted most. "My name is Matthew, but my friends call me Matty, so you can call me Matty."

His hair was quite unusual. It was shaved on one side and had coal colored curls lining his forehead in a motion that was similar to a black dyed pool. He wasn't as fast paced as his friend, but he still had the same smile and a similar texture to his voice.

"Well, Jesse, Matty, Mel, now that we've all gotten to be totally BFF's forever with Ambie here, let's hit the road." Brendon rang through the room.

"She knows what's going on, right?" Black-clad Jesse asked, flicking a small pocket knife between his fingers. Punk ass behavior.

"Umm, sorta." Brendon giggled, reaching behind his head and rubbing his neck in a sort of apology.

"Well, expect to have fun, love." Matty spoke, whipping out a Colt from his jacket and twisting it with his fingers like a faux-cowboy. For some odd reason, this took me by surprise. I guess I hadn't taken Matty to be that sort of person. Then again, in the last five minutes, I had met three estranged criminals, so I wasn't sure what to anticipate.

"Alright guys," Brendon proclaimed, scanning between the eyes of every individual, holding a connection with them each for a second before breaking away.

"Let's get this going."