Brontide

Chris rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his familiar white pillow. In one hand he held the sleek luxury remote that controlled the sleek luxury TV that was tuned into some soap opera he honestly didn't care about. In the other he played with the keychain holding his keys to his luxury house and luxury car. He didn't have a problem with having money. Hell, he wouldn't survive without it. He just wondered if there really was more to life than chrome and black and white.

Rae turned the corner, munching on a bag of potato chips she had snagged from his kitchen, and climbed up onto the bed next to him. When he didn't look at her, she knew right away that something was wrong.

"What's bothering you?" she asked, rubbing his back with the hand clean from potato chip oil.

"Nothing important. Just tired from driving, so I'm kind of delirious," he mumble into the pillow.

Rae sighed, stretching herself out and climbing into his back, silently laying there for a minute.

"Do you honestly like it here? Be honest," Chris asked, turning his head to look at Rae.

"Of course, I love the city," she frowned, sitting up.

"No, I mean here," Chris gestured around his room in general. "It's far from a horse stall, and you seemed happy there."

"You're right, you are delirious from driving," Rae rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm happy. Right here, with you."

"Right," Chris muttered, giving her a half smile. "I know you said you'd be spending the night here, but I hope you understand that I actually intend on sleeping."

Rae shrugged, like she expected it, then laid herself down next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He held her locked in his arms, playing with her short red hair.

"I'm happy, okay?" she said softly.

"Okay."

.::.

"And that is why George Washington would beat Abraham Lincoln in a fight," Jeremy announced, giving an exaggerated bow after a long explanation he had given.

"I still don't believe it," Rae rolled her eyes, picking at the takeout box in her hand with her chopsticks. "Abraham Lincoln would have a height advantage. Right, Chris?"

She turned her head to look at Chris, who quietly listening as Rae leaned back against him.

"I, uh," he shrugged, "I'm gonna have to go with Washington. Jeremy was more convincing."

"Ha!" Jeremy stuck out his tongue, plopping himself down next to Lucy.

When he sat down, Chris noticed his sleeve rise up slightly, showing a hint of a bad red splotch of skin, like he had been badly scraped.

"What happened to your arm?" Chris nodded towards it, making Jeremy pull his sleeve down slightly.

"Nothing," he said monotonously, "Kitchen accident."

"Let me see," Rae sat up, worried.

Jeremy hesitantly lifted up his sleeve, revealing the angry red splotch that ran all the way up the side of his arm. Chris knew that it was no kitchen accident, but more like he was dragged across concrete. It was an injury he had both received and inflicted.

"Oh. My. God," Lucy's jaw dropped. "Jeremy!"

"What really happened?" Rae frowned.

"Nothing, some asshole jumped in front of me and knocked me over," Jeremy angrily pushed his sleeve down. For a moment, he was a completely different person.

"Was it the same guy from last time?" Rae asked.

"Last time?" Lucy and Chris said simultaneously.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Jeremy grinned. "I'm okay, really. I just have to keep away from dark alleys and shit. Anyway, where were we? Right, I was celebrating my big win!"

Jeremy continued on with his reasoning, but for Chris it went in one ear and out the other. Jeremy's story sounded eerily familiar.

.::.

Chris poked his head into an office of a tall glass building in the city, looking around to make sure no one was in. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. He walked over to the desk and silently sat in the chair, waking up the sleek computer. It started to whirr slightly, making Chris cringe and look around again.

Welcome, Marissa.
Password:

Chris cursed under his breath, typing in random things to see if he could guess.

Incorrect password.
Incorrect password.
Incorrect password.
One try left.

Chris bit his lip, tapping his fingers on the desk. He figured a girl like Marissa would have her passwords written down, but she was clever. She would've had it hidden. He slowly opened the desk drawer, digging around. Stapler, paper clips, printer ink, a pair of glasses, pens, and... condoms? Chris shut the drawer in disgust, trying to get the thought out of his head. He looked around, but the room was so modern and simple that there really wasn't much a place to hide.

He picked up a picture set on the desk, looking down at the smiling faces of his family from a trip to Hawaii they had taken fifteen years ago. Chris and Marissa were still kids, and their mother was holding them both. Their father wasn't in the picture. Chris frowned, turning the frame over and opening it. The picture fell out, along with another slip of paper.

Passwords: Do not throw away!
Phone - 1629
Computer - mar20hun
Email - jtisatotalbabe

Chris but his lip to keep from laughing out loud when he saw the last one. His sister used to have a terrible crush on Justin Timberlake, and apparently, she still did. He quickly typed in the computer password, unlocking it. Chris slipped the paper back in the frame, putting it exactly where it was.

He quickly searched through the files, looking for one name in particular. He found it, and much to his dismay he expected every single note on the screen. He shut the file down and turned off the computer, knowing there was no time to waste. He stood up and put everything back in it's place, taking one last look before going back out the door.

As soon as he shit the door and stepped away, the elevator door opened and Marissa stepped out, holding a coffee and a notebook in her hands. She looked at Chris with a confused expression, glancing at the door.

"Where have you been?" she asked calmly.

"Something insignificant to anyone but me," he responded, expertly hiding how panicked he felt.

Marissa scowled, pushing past him to get to the door. She fumbled with the keys to get it open, and didn't seem to notice anything when she stepped inside. Chris relaxed his shoulders a bit, following Marissa inside.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, putting down the notebook. "You never come by the offices."

"I guess I wanted to see you," Chris lied. "I saw your email and I thought it would just be better to come by. So I waited outside. I guess you were on a break?"

Marissa raised an eyebrow at him, taking a seat in her desk chair and frowning as she swiveled in the chair.

"The seat's warm," she muttered. "I must be going crazy. Too much coffee."

"I guess."

"Someone's been here," Marissa frowned, looking through the desk drawers. "I made sure to hide the cond- notebook way underneath everything. They're on top now."

Chris shrugged, looking casual about it.

"Chris, were you just looking through my stuff?" Marissa looked up at him.

"No, of course not. What would I do that for?"

Marissa kept staring at him, closing the drawer slowly. "Chris, we need to talk. You are going to tell me everything, because I'm going to find out anyway. Get the picture?"

"Yes, ma'am," Chris muttered, pulling out his phone to text Rae.

I really think you should stay home today, okay? And stay with Jeremy. Trust me on this.
-Chris