maybe the future will smile (open.)

[quinn]

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YOU BETTER RUN FOR THE HILLS BEFORE THEY BURN, LISTEN TO THE SOUND OF THE WORLD
then watch it turn
I JUST WANT TO SHOW YOU WHAT I KNOW AND CATCH YOU WHEN THE CURRENT LETS YOU GO
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His mother had asked him to stay for dinner. What a disaster. But he couldn't say he was surprised. It was always a disaster. It never went well. He wasn't as optimistic as his mother, who had yet to give up hope on the idea of the boy and his stepfather getting along. The worst part? Eli had realized it on his way down the street: he wasn't going anywhere, he wasn't doing anything, he was just killing time before he had to go back home. Where else could he go? He was still a kid, there was no place for him but home. Fuck... Even the strongest profanities didn't express his frustration.

At least it was a nice night. Well, nice enough. How did that song he liked go again? 'A beautiful night for being lonely'. That's definately what he was. Lonely. Eli didn't even have Duncan with him tonight. The dog was impressive; of everyone he had ever met, Duncan was the only one who could 1. sleep comfortably curled into a ball half his original size, and 2. sleep at all with people screaming across the house at eachother. Eli cleared his throat in a subtle way, knowing some of the disgusting sounds people could make with their vocal chords (despite being alone, with no people around to disgust). Having taken part in the screaming, he was a bit hoarse; it was a big house to shout across. Let sleeping dogs lie. That was the rule, and Eli took it into consideration when fumbling for his car keys and slamming the back door behind him.

Eli hadn't been able to deal with Dan anymore, which wasn't uncommon. Over the past few months especially, he had burned up more gas than ever before with all the drives he took after the arguments. He didn't know what he would do if he hadn't located small sanctuaries around the town. However, many of these sanctuaries closed when the sun went down. Walking the docks at the marina gave him peace, quiet, and a place to think even through the late hours of the night. Grocery store, that had been his excuse. He had ripped the slim piece of paper from the refrigerator and stuffed it into his pocket when he went out the door. That's another thing that had changed within the past few months: the small family never seemed to run out of anything food-wise. It was because Dan got extra irritable this late at night, and the grocery store was the innocent part of this town open all hours of the day and night. The list of food was small and petty, some items impatiently underlined, meaning Dan wanted them. Those that were circled and underlined meant he really wanted them. Eli knew he was going to "accidentally" forget a lot of them.

Mainly because the grocery store wasn't the point. The grocery store was never the point. Whenever he needed to get out of the house, immidiately, he used the grocery store as a cover and took a walk under the stars. Something he never really did, considering he was a runner, and never walked when he could run. And considering that he was an only child and his mother was more than nervous about murderers and kidnappers roaming the streets. Truthfully, living in upper-lower-middle-class Detroit had made Eli the same way, which means it was stupid of him to be trekking around the dimly-lit docks in the middle of the night, after all, he could trekk through the well-lighted streets, try to find a nightclub and try his luck at looking eighteen, or swing by the residential area to see if anyone was still awake. Hell, he could trekk through the grocery store. But there was something about the night air that calmed the boy.

He had taken his walk, contemplated opening up the one lonely package of cigarettes he had stolen from Dan a ways back, then decided if the night air and the gentle waves crashing against the shores around him wasn't enough to settle his frustration a cigarette wouldn't either, and headed back to his car. It was close to three o'clock now, and even a peaceful little city like Cape May had cops. Or so Eli had been told. And at the annoying age of seventeen, Eli was still subject to curfew. And so he started the car and headed away from the marina (making sure he checked the backseat for any kidnappers before leaving.) With his foot firmly holding the brake pedal, the boy suddenly felt a tearing emotion close to depression. A night for being lonely, it seemed that stage had passed. He needed someone to talk to. Someone other than the stars in the sky. Maybe he would swing by the residential streets anyways, see if anyone was a secret insomniac.

The boy had just pulled into the street when the car gave a grand sputter, an exceptionally ugly noise, enough of one to cause Eli to pull over on the side of the road, as he knew what that sound meant. That was Noise #4. And of all the problematic noises, #4 was the worst. Kind of like someone's soul was dying, throwing up, and scratching its especially long nails across a chalkboard simultaneously. The old Skyliner looked brand new: a still-retractable white hood (rare for its age) and a sparkling cherry-red body, the car was practically Grease Lightning. Except for the engine. Much unlike the famous, powerful, street-racing greaser car, Eli's sputtered and coughed at him at the most unintelligible times. Like now, when he simply wanted to find someone else in this world, just one person. Of course, Eli could merely drive cars, fixing them wasn't anywhere near in his range of talents. The car had cost him nothing, as it was a present from Dan's grandchild-loving, richer-than-God parents, despite the fact that Eli was technically not their grandchild. Maybe that's why the car was so great but the engine was so useless: he was only an almost-grandchild to them.

He pulled the keys from the ignition, ceasing the awful sound. Eli let out a sigh and got out of the car, there was nothing he could do other than pop the hood, stare at the mess of machinery and hope someone driving by knew their way around the inside of a car. From what he could tell, the engine wasn't letting out intimidating smoke like it did when the car made Noise #2, the most uncommon and severe of the problems, and nothing was obviously out of place like Noise #5 situations. Noise #'s 1 and 3 had something to do with a shortage of gas and oil, or so he thought. Noise #4 was the tricky one that had given him no clues. The car was so impressive, and when the engine decided it was feeling good, it showed. Now, however, it was embarrassing, he almost didn't want anyone to stop by. But that was a huge lie, he needed human contact, needed it. He refused to go to crawling back to his house and go to bed knowing the last person he would speak to was Dan.

"Awesome," Eli muttered, tolerance level shrinking. Now he needed someone for reasons other than throwing a rope down the pit of despair to drag him out. In his loneliness, the boy was stranded. Leaning against the side of his car, his eyes watched the street closely. For any sign of headlights or footsteps. Anyone who could save him one mental breakdown and an auto repair bill. At least it was a nice night.

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THE CARDS ARE EVERYWHERE, FACE IN THE DUST AT THE FAIRGROUND, I'VE NEVER SEEN
so many headlights
THERE'S SOMETHING PULLING ME, THE CIRCUS AND THE CREW ARE JUST PASSING THROUGH
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status; complete. tags; open. wordcount; 1,276.
jams; beautiful night -- the burden brothers. notes; eli is almost as socially deprived as his rper right now.