Southern Downpour

This should not have happened to begin with, Alex realizes. If he had just bit down on his tongue when his boss asked him to deal with a customer complaint- for the fifth time that night- instead of telling the arrogant, bitch of a woman to go fuck herself with the garlic bread, then he wouldn’t be in this position. He wouldn’t be spending his Friday night in the sketchy side of downtown Chicago, walking his way home. Amanda was his ride home, but she didn’t get off of work until well after 2am and she refused to side with him on this. Bitch.

“Oh fucking great.” He spits, pulling up the hood of his jacket and zipping it closed. The droplets of rain multiply in a matter of seconds and Alex increases his speed, taking two steps in place of one. When the rain becomes so heavy he can’t look straight ahead, but instead face downwards, he takes four in place of two.

It’s ludicrous to be in his situation. A male of twenty-two working, or rather had been working, in a pizza parlor making $10 and hour with rent to pay and food to eat. If had had just stayed in Las Vegas like the good boy his mom had wanted and gone to college. If only he had just sucked it up and let got of the washed up dream he could one day actually be a successful musician. What a fucking idiot. He had a nice home, real food, and a nice heating system. Looking up, the water splashing his face, Alex realized this was what he had. Some shabby looking apartment in the rundown part of town. Living the dream. He faces back down when the rain gets in his eyes and he wraps his long boyish arms around himself, shivering as he curses under his breath. A nice diagnosis of bronchitis is just what he needs on top of his already past due housing bill. He wishes at that moment, when his jacket is soaked to the point it's sticking to his skin, that he would have waited for Amanda back at the restaurant. Wished he’d have taken her offer and waited in her car with the radio on and the heater blasting through the air vents. A whole lot of wishing, that’s what Alex consists of. A whole variety of should have, if’s and if only’s. He only has about two blocks to go he realizes when he sees the Venice Boulevard sign, and picks up the pace.

It’s strangely quiet for a night in Chicago, Alex notes, but quickly slaps himself mentally. Of course it is, because who would be walking in this weather? Oh that’s right, this fucking loser would be. The streetlamps seem to have agreed to be against him today, because only every three are on and are flickering, giving him a poor direction home. “This is how the horror movies go.” he chuckles, before rolling his eyes. “Real nice Gaskarth, talking to yourse--’” he cuts himself off and stops in his tracks, standing still, the water droplets falling fast on him. He thought he had heard something. “Delusional.” he decides, but before he can resume his walk he’s positive he hears something. He turns around and quickly notes it's not something, but someone and they’re walking towards him. Well, in his direction. They’re still about a block and a half away. No harm, he decides. Maybe people live around here. No harm. He begins walking again, going a little faster paced than before. He stops at a red light on Fourth and presses the button for the light to change. Tapping his foot against the sidewalk, he becomes aware of the footsteps again. He tries to keep up his pace without appearing to frantic. He’s pretty sure he read online somewhere that if you’re being followed, you shouldn't give the impression you’re aware and afraid. He strains his ears to try and listen above the splash of the rain on cement, but it's difficult. It's pouring showers. He manages to hear the the sound of rushed feet against the wet pavement and when Alex turns around for a quick glance he sees the figure is walking, running , at an unnatural speed in his direction. Panicked, he makes a quick check no cars are coming and speeds down the road, counting quickly in his head in time with his steps. Alex breaks out into a run, not giving two fucks about how this would most likely attract the other person’s attention. He hears a faint yell for him to stop, but it's drowned by the rain and Alex runs faster.

He really should have waited. He should have stayed home. He should have forced a fucking smile and swallowed his pride with, “I’m so sorry your pizza is too Italian for your taste mam, let me get you a new one.” But, no. Alex had something to prove and now he’s going to end up dead in an alley somewhere, his corpse for the raccoons to feast on.

“Hey wait!” He hears the echo throughout the street. He catches sight of Freemont up ahead and breaks out into a sprint. Fuck that, if he’s going to die he’s gonna go like a champ. He fishes his hand into his pockets, searching for his apartment key while trying of prevent slipping and resulting in the most embarrassing capture ever.

“Hold up!” Alex races up the front steps of the porch, pulling out the ring of keys from his back pocket, but his fingers shiver from the cold and the panic that he drops them off the side steps and into the bushes they go. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He turns around to make a run in the opposite direction, but the figure is approaching him, walking down the walkway. Fuck. Fuck. He turns away quickly, too fearful to face him.

“You sure can run. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to catch you.”

“Hey listen, I don’t have any money.” his voice quivers and he digs out his wallet, tossing it in his direction. “I….I don’t even live here so I can’t even give you what I have inside. Not that I have anything in there.” oh god Alex, shut the fuck up. He feels a hand on his shoulder and tenses up, swallowing the lump in his throat. This is how he goes. A young nobody, murdered because he’s so damn stubborn. He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna pull out his gun, demanded he open the door, tie him up, raid his apartment, and then cut off his limbs.

“I tried catching up with you at the restaurant, but my mom was being her usual prissy self. I’m sorry about that.” That isn’t what Alex expects to here.

“What?” he asks shakily, shivering now that he’s still and the cold breeze hits his wet clothing. He turns around to face the man this time, who looks more or less his age, a black parasol in his right hand and a small smile on his lips.

“My mom,” the boy says, but Alex is dumbfounded. “She called you a good for nothing rat boy.”

“Oh, lovely woman.” Alex murmurs, not quite sure what’s going on. But there’s a lack of guns and that’s a good enough sign.

“I saw that guy fire you, I felt bad. Was gonna give you this to makeup for it,” He’s holding up a fifty dollar bill, looking at Alex with flushed cheeks, “but then you stormed out and my mom wouldn’t let me go and it took me forever to catch up with you and when I did see you, you were blocks away so I ran cause you were getting all wet and I had this.” He’s clearly out of breath, pointing at the umbrella. Alex realizes and feels so utterly stupid to think the guy was full of harmful intentions. “Uh, I’m Jack.” he stuffs Alex’s wallet and the bill in Alex’s wet pocket before holding out his hand. Alex stares down at it, before his eyes flick up to his face. He scared the living shit out of him.

“Uh...well, I guess I’ll be off then, sorry about that. Have a nice night.” he says awkwardly and turns down the steps before Alex is able to react and catches a hold of Jack’s jacket.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack and I lost my job because of you.” he says coldly, although there’s a smile in his voice.

“I didn’t realize I scared you, I just...sorry.” he blushes, just dawning on him how terrifying it must have been on Alex’s side.

“Help me find my keys and come inside. I’ll be damned if you I Strep because of you and then I’ll be sure to sue your ass.” he points in the direction of the bushes.

“Right...thanks.” Jack offers a wry smile before hopping down the steps into greenery and fishes out the keys from a pile of mud.

“Hey listen,” Alex takes them from him, sticking the key in the lock and turning it left, “How do you feel about pizza?” he kicks the door open.

“A little too Italian for me.” Jack offers with a small smile to which Alex grins to.

“Good because I was just gonna order some Chinese with the $50 I got at work.” he chuckles, motioning him in.