Respite

[Raineko]

This is the first time I've tried writing anything like this, apologies if it seems like a total bitch wrote it.

 

Chapter 1: Early Bird

A pan atop a hotplate in the center of the room, the sound of sizzling bacon. This was a rare sight, but a more than welcomed one. "Is it almost done?" A moment passes, the sound of sizzling stops. "Just a little while longer." The boy responds. Two brothers, the oldest being in his teens. "Unplug the heater, I'll plate this up." The eldest brother lays out several pieces of bacon on a paper towel, he then proceeds to lay out a single paper plate. "Alright, come and get it." The youngest brother eagerly springs from the floor, and runs to the counter top where the he had cooked his food. The boy looks to his plate. "Wait, I thought you made eight pieces." The youngest asked. On the youngest brother's plate laid the eight pieces of bacon. "Are you gonna have any?" The oldest brother began to scrub the pan in the sink, using water poured from a bottle and a dirty, trashed sponge. "I'll be okay." The younger brother looked to his eldest with a perplexed look. "Cant we each have four? That makes eight, right?" The oldest brother takes the now unplugged hotplate and stuffs it into one the duffel bags that they both shared, along with the pan. "Yeah, but you need to eat."

The oldest brother had walked out into the hallway, carrying a different bag with him. "Sit tight, lock the doors, don't leave the room, and answer my damn texts for once. I'll be back." Before he could close the door, the youngest wedged himself between the door and the frame. "Where are you going, Yurick?" He slung the bag over his shoulder. "Laundry day. We're gonna go eat somewhere today." The boy's eyes lit up with joy, and he gave the oldest brother a hug, tight enough to break ribs. "Alright, shit! You're gonna hurt me if you squeeze any tighter!" After he'd pulled the boy off of himself, he'd set off for the laundromat. Behind the door, the sound of a mechanical deadbolt and a muffled "Seeya, bro!" can be heard. The device in his pocket was a handheld GPS/Communicator unit the size of a cellphone, complete with a thick black plastic case. They come a dime a dozen, and they're essential for any Martian in the cities, rich or poor. After scrolling and scrolling through pages of local business within the range of the residential sector the two had stayed in, he'd manage to find one within walking distance. "An hour long walk? There aren't any closer?" He sighed, keeled down and tied his shoelaces tight. As he walked through corridors filled with tenants coming and going, stairwells that seemed to stretch on, crowds of strangers rubbing elbows, and busy marketplaces bustling with customers, the dull pain that he'd grown too familiar with had begun to form in his core: the feeling of hunger.

He wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't make the pilgrimage to his favorite import market, "Gordost' ot Sol Imports". It didn't matter to him if he had money or not, he would go regardless. Gordost' was an imported spices and meats market the size a train station, run by a man named Petrov. The two floors were packed to the door with customers, numerous storefronts and kiosks line the center walkways, each decorated with their own tacky LED lighting and signage. If you had to describe the smell of the place, it would something along the lines of black pepper and white tea leaves.

"Yurick, my boy! How have you been!?" Among the booming crowd shouting and screaming, the man was able to single him out in a matter of seconds. "Hey, Petrov!" He was barely audible over all of the hollering customers. He began to shuffle and wade through all of the patrons, dozens and dozens of people all cramped around storefronts waving their money around, buying up what they can before it all sells out. Before he could get to the center to greet the man, someone grabs him by the arm and pulls him through the crowd. "Yurick! It's good to see you again, my boy!" Petrov was an older man with thinning, blond hair. Despite the man's age, he was remarkably built from hauling shipments of goods. "Hello again, Petrov. You scared the shit out of me, grabbing me like that." Petrov has an affinity for being outright with others, subtlety is a language this man doesn't understand. "Sorry, my boy. Is there anything I can help you with today?" Petrov released his tight grip on Yurick's arm. "Just paying a visit. You still got those imported sirloin tips I've been eyeballing?" Petrov gave him a smile. "I got a pack with your name on it, my boy." Before the boy could speak, Petrov interjected with "How's that little brother of yours, is he well?" Yurick had felt the twinge of hunger pains in his stomach again. "He's doing okay." Petrov continued with his upbeat attitude, and gave the boy a pat on the back. "You do a good job with him, my boy!" Before they could continue their conversation, the crowd had erupted into a storm of shouts and vulgarity, as a fight had broken out and spilled into the center walkway. "I'll be back for that sirloin, Petrov." The boy said, as he slung his bag back over his shoulder. "Yurick, do me a favor." The man leaned in close to the boy, and said in a strict tone, "Don't get in any more trouble, you hear me?" Just like that, he dropped his happy attitude, and he went to deal with the the fight that had broken out. And with that said, Yurick was out the door, back into the wide and bustling corridor.