I'd Start A Riot //Dyle//

Chapter Eighteen

Kyle feels awfully lethargic the following morning as he awakes, dark skies doing little to brighten up the room and make Kyle feel lively. Will, sleeping a few metres away from him on the floor whereas Kyle slumbered on the beaten sofa, shifts slightly, reaching up to his face and rubbing his hand over his beard although he still remains asleep. 

It's been too long... Kyle thinks to himself, his stomach dropping, and eyes closing as he dreads to think about it. It's been too long and there's no chance...

He tries to turn himself around on the sofa, a loose spring poking him in the leg, but it creaks beneath him and, in turn, wakes up the other man, who sits up and rubs his hands over his face, taking in a deep breath of cool air to wake himself up before he turns to Kyle.

"How're you feeling?" He asks the man in a voice that suggests he didn't get much sleep himself. He has bags hanging under his eyes, but Kyle can't remember either of them not having them. 

"Good morning to you, too," Kyle smiles, rubbing his own face. "Much better, and honestly, I barely remember what actually happened. I just remember feeling really, really shitty for a few hours, and then I woke up here." 

Will just nods as he rises from the floor, cracking his back and looking through his bag quickly. "At least you feel better." 

"Yeah, thank you for bringing me here. And giving me the sofa, you didn't have to." Kyle sits up, swinging his feet over the sofa and sitting upright. "What're you looking for?" 

"I found some scissors in here last night," Will tells the other man, finally pulling them out from beneath a hat in his bag. He heads to the bathroom, where sunlight streams in through the smashed window, complimented by a breeze. It feels almost relieving. Green vines, dying at the tips, grow in through the window, climbing up the wall and attaching themselves to the ceiling.

The mirror in the bathroom has a smash in the top left corner, which shatters down the rest of the mirror, and Will looks into it, realising how much of a mess he looks. His hair is getting long and his beard is way out of control, so he holds the scissors up to the back of his neck and grabs a handful of the hair.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Kyle asks, his tall figure dominating the small bathroom. 

"Cutting my hair?" The other man replies, taking a moment before he begins cutting. Before he can make too much of a difference, however, Kyle stops him.

"Here, let me do it. Then you can do mine?" He offers, taking the scissors off of Will, and lining them up so his hair would at least be even. Will nods, accepting Kyle's offer. "These scissors are blunt as fuck," 

"There was another pair, but they were bent," hair falls to the floor, and Will just looks at himself in the mirror. For a moment, he can imagine himself being in a barber shop, having a friendly chat with the barber themselves. 

"As bent as me?" Kyle giggles to himself, even earning a small chuckle from Will. "Hold your head still," he tells him, putting a hand on the top of his head, crouching down to get a better look.

Will just looks at himself again, his face which has lost so much weight to it, his beard, which has grown wildly out of control. What ever happened to him?

Around ten minutes later, Kyle looks at his work. It's really not the best, but it's not all that bad, either. It looks how it did when all of this started, not in any style in particular, but still relatively neat.

"Looks alright, that, doesn't it?" Will runs his hand over his head, his fingers gently gripping at his hair. A smile grows on his face. 

"I'm quite impressed with myself if I do say so myself." Kyle grins, running his own hands through his own hair. 

"We're almost there," Ralph says to the other two men, stretching his arms out at the sides and hearing the shoulder joints click. A yawn escapes from him.

"Good, because I'm getting some right blisters on my feet..." Charlie complains, running his hands under the sweaty straps of his backpack, resting heavily on his shoulders. "It hurts to walk." 

Woody looks at Charlie, the way his hair, growing ever longer, sticks up in every direction, held by the dampness of sweat. Then he looks to Ralph, who is coping slightly better, but still has sweat dripping down his forehead and he looks worn out.

After a moment, he speaks up. "We should probably stop," he says to the two men, who both sigh with relief. Woody then begins to feel guilty- they had asked possibly four hours prior to this if they could stop, but the longer haired man had refused, saying he wanted to continue walking, and then ignored the complaints of the other men.

"Really?" Ralph questions with a smile, looking around him. "I don't know where we could go, but there looks like there's a pub over there. They might 'ave a room." He gestures to a structure maybe ten metres away, and the two others nod in agreement before making their way over there.

Much to his disappointment, when Charlie checks the cellar, he finds that all the alcohol is gone, or spilt on the floor, so he just heads back upstairs with a heavy heart. A frosty pint of Fosters would make all of this better...

"Nothing?" Ralph asks him as Woody checks upstairs, finding nothing apart from the pub owner's house. 

"None at all," Charlie sighs, shaking his head. "No beer: the sob story of a life time." 

"Fuck off," Will says, looking at Kyle with amazement on his face. "You're practically fucking clean shaven." 

"I'm not," the other man replies, running his hand over the stubble on his face. "Dan never liked me without my beard." 

"You better hope it grows back fast. Fucking Hell, even I'm not brave enough to shave mine that short." He runs his hands over his own beard, now considerably shorter than before, but never as short as Kyle's newly cut stubble. "You're brave." 

"Shut up, man. Not that bad, is it? I know it's pretty short, but I wanted to get rid of quite a bit of it cause it was in the way." Kyle picks up his bag and shoves the scissors in there, before swinging it and putting it on his back. "You ready to go?" 

"Yeah," Will follows Kyle's actions, preparing his own backpack and putting it on his back, making towards the door. "I'm ready."