Hunting Sunsets

Thirty Seven

This is not where I thought I would end up tonight. Actually, I'm not even sure I could say that because I had no clue what this place downtown was. It wasn't a nice place, let me tell you that. The urban neighborhood was run down and sad looking, an eerie feeling settling on my shoulders as I walked close to Smith's protective body.

The air was stale inside of the apartment building. There was no one in the lobby nor on the worn lookin grey stairs. I thought about making a comment, but that would only lead Smith to regret taking me even more. So I stayed quietly beside him as we mounted two flights of steps before exiting the stair well and walking down the hallway of the floor. My boyfriend knew exactly what brown door with to stop at, pounding aggressively like he was going to knock it off the hinges. His tall frame was between my body and the door, so when the lock clicked and the door opened I couldn't see the person behind it.

"Where is he?" Smith's deep tone asked flatly. It wasn't a question; it was a command to find Jake or Smith would most likely do something he would regret.

"He's not-"

"Bullshit." Smith cut off the lazy voice of a woman who must have been around our age, slipping past her in the doorway to enter the apartment. I followed him, the smell of burnt plastic and pungent vodka hitting my nostrils like a punch toy he face. The blonde woman with sunken eyes was watching me with an odd look I couldn't pinpoint and it made me uncomfortable.

She exhaled in an annoyed fashion as I followed Smith through the atrium and into the living room were a few bodies hung around on the floor and on raggedy brown couches. I wished I didn't see the lines on the beaten up coffee table or the needles and tinfoil beside it. A few of the faces looked familiar from parties, but a few were much older and more desperate, like the life was being sucked out of them as they laid there. But the unshaven man in his sixties staring at me cross eyed wasn't who I was staring at, nor was it the preppy, thin brunette who looked like she couldn't be older then seventeen. Instead my eyes locked on my older brother and his messed up blonde hair, leaning against the couch from his seat the dirty floor, his legs kicked out in front of him and a cigarette between his fingers.

Smith approached his best friend with long, purposeful strides. "Get up or I'll do it for you."

Jake had barely looked up before he slurred a quick response, his pupils dilated in agitation. "You can't make me do shit, Kyoh." His 's's were longer than normal and his consonants more exaggerated than usual, but he spoke in such a rapid and aggressive manner that it was almost hard to pick up on. His eyes maliciously flicked to me and then back to Smith. "You shouldn't have taken her with you. You're going to hurt 'er one day."

"I told her not to, but Maeve can make her own choices. Though you apparently don't believe in that as you can't respect her choice to be with me. Now get up, or I will drag you out of here, Jake. I mean it."

"No. These people are my friends, unlike you. You're going to hurt her. I don't want to be there when this shit blows up."

"These people aren't your friends, they're addicts. You don't even know their names."

"At least they won't fuck my sister and leave." A muscle twitched in Smith's strong jaw but Jake kept going. "They won't fucking hit her either. She needs a nice girl not a guy like you with bitches constantly ogling him."

A frown settled on my lips, knowing women could hurt me in the same way Noah did just as easily. But that wasn't what Smith was focused on right know. I knew the comment about hitting me had crossed a line long before Smith grabbed Jake by the collar and forced him to his feet. "Let's go home," Smith told him firmly, letting go of Jake as soon as he was on his feet, trying to push Smith away from him.