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i never told you what i do for a living - my chemical romance

"another knife in my hands, a stain that never comes off the the sheets, clean me off, I'm so dirty babe. the kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes."

Nate didn't bother counting down. As the Lords started to walk towards us, Nate grabbed my blood-stained arm and dragged me down the alleyway. My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to run, trying to match Nate's pace and not look back

"Listen," Lords shouted. "I just want to talk to you kids!"

"Fat chance." Nate huffed under his breath as we rounded the front of the strip mall. We were running out of options shy of getting on Nate's bike and taking off

"In there." I panted, pointing at the side door to the Vietnamese restaurant at the very end of the opposite side of the strip, propped open with a plastic garbage can. Spotting the opportunity, Nate spurred us on, running as if our lives depended on it before Lords as his guys found us.

Nate pulled the trash can away from the door, and I held the metal slab open for him, my hands leaving bloody prints on the off-white paint. He hurried in after me, and we took off down the hallway. My hands dripped with Lasku's blood, small pinpricks dotting the tile hallway as Nate and I ducked into the bathroom to hide, blood staining the door as I forced it shut, turning the lock and then placing an industrial trash can underneath the handle.

I felt sick as I dropped to my knees. My hands left blood stains in everything I touched, smearing all over my face as I held my head in my hands. "What have we gotten into, Nate? Be serious with me, for ten minutes of your life."

Nate exhaled, sliding down the wall to sit next to me. His white t-shirt was marred with bloodstains, handprints from when he had pulled me away from the body. "I don;t know, Forrester, but it's not good. I'd say we have until sunup before Lords hunts us down, and he kills us."

"I'm going to die." I said slowly, feeling my chest begin to tighten. Feeling the panic setting in, I scrambled for my tote bag and the tiny orange bottle inside it, just to realize it wasn't there.

I had left my tote bag, and my medications by Lasku's body. My wallet was in there, things that could identify me. Breathing became difficult, and soon I found myself gasping for air, head between my knees.

"Forrester?" Nate asked, his voice seeped through with concern. "Forrester, it's okay! You're having a panic attack, which is a perfectly reasonable response." In an instant, Nate was in front of me, hands on either side of my face as he forced me to look him in the eyes. "Focus on me, Charis. Breathe with me, okay? Do you think you can do that?"

I nodded slowly, trying to match Nate's breathing patterns.

We sat there for a moment, frozen in time as I listened to my heart slow down, the ringing in my ears getting quieter and quieter. I was still covered from head to toe in the Albanian man's blood. Nate helped me get to my feet, and I stood in front of the cheap white porcelain, running my hands under scalding water, watching the blood dye the water pink. 

"Listen, Charis." Nate started, leaning against the wall with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as I splashed water on my face, tying to get the blood off my pale skin, washed out in the bathroom's horrible lighting. "We're in deep. I don't blame you if you want out. I can drive you home, and we don;t ever have to talk about this again."

"You called me Charis." I said thoughtfully. "You've only ever called me Forrester when we've been around each other." I managed a small grin. "Don't tell me you're warming up to me, Macauley."

Nate chuckled. "Not a chance, Princess.

My expression darkened. "He has my wallet, Nate. I left my tote bag there." My voice wavered "Lords is going to find out who we are. I'm in just as much danger as you are. We're in this together now, like it or not."

The other boy nodded solemnly. "Okay. We can work around that. We're witnesses. Going to the cops isn't an option."

"And why the fuck not?

Nate looked at me, his head cocked to the side. "Charis, we were in the middle of a drug deal. Neither of us were doing something legal back there. I get caught, and it's jail time. Your parents find out you're on lorazepam and it's off to rehab."

All the fight left me then. I fell back to my knees in front of the sink, my phone falling out of my back pocket and clattering to the floor as I thought about the first time I went to church with Alexia.

I had stayed over at her house the night before and we stayed up watching the first four 'Scream' movies. TJ got held up with an early-morning practice, and both my parents were working from home. It was an off-handed invite that Pastor Staedtler had thrown out, and I was fully intent on passing when Alexia's mother insisted. I borrowed one of her dresses, a modest white floral maxi dress that dusted the floor when I put it on. I hadn't been a religious person then, and I wasn't now, but I swear that something magical happened when we walked into that church. 

Alexia and I were sat in the front row next to Cooper Clay and his grandmother. His father and younger brother were right behind us when Alexia's father started the sermon. The topic that day was forgiveness, to both yourself and others. I had been going through a lot at the time, it was the beginning of a reckoning that saw me beginning to leave my emo phase behind, the Alternative Press posters I ripped from the magazine's margins coming down from my wall, the large picture of Gerard Way that was once set as the lock screen on my phone replaced with a picture of Axl Rose as I entered my classic rock era. The sermon struck a chord, and I think of it every now and again when I think I need to be a little easier on myself.

My favourite part was when the singing started. Malcolm Staedtler was an incredible saxophonist, but that didn't hold a candle to Sister Rosetta, the congregation's singer. When she started singing Tina Turner's rendition of 'Stand By Me', it was like I was truly in the presence of Ike and Tina. The entire congregation was singing together, and Alexia had managed to talk me into it as well. We were singing and dancing for ages before the food came out, made specially that week by an elderly Jamaican woman who was incredibly good in the kitchen, if I do say so myself.

I'd only been back to the Staedtler's church a handful of times after that, but I prayed to every god that I could think of that Nate and I would make it out of the  night alive.

As I sat there, with my head in my hands, gently rocking back and forth, my phone fell out of my pocket, clattering to the floor. Nate came to sit down next to me, passing me the device, grinning as he looked at the picture trapped inside the clear case.

"So, you're a Brandon Lee fan?"

I smiled. It was a small smile, but it was nice to know that after witnessing murder, I hadn't lost the ability to feel some kind of positive emotion. "Of course. 'The Crow' has been my favourite cult-classic nineties movie since I was in the ninth grade."

"'Showdown In Little Tokyo'." Nate said with a grin. "It's not nearly as good as 'Rush Hour', though."

"Nothing could possibly beat 'Rush Hour'." I laughed. "I mean, come on, it's Jacke motherfucking Chan!"

We laughed, the sound echoing around the small room. "I drew this, you know?" I said, turning the phone around so that he could see the small wallet sized portrait. "It was a real bitch to draw, too. I had to scale down the image significantly, and I lost a few of Brandon's adorable facial features."

"You drew that?" Nate said, pointing towards it in disbelief. "Charis, I knew you were an artist, but I didn't realize that you were that good."

I blushed, hiding the drawing in my hands. "I'm not. Not really. You should see the rest of the art class."

Nate was about to say something, when the high-pitched ringtone (the score to Law & Order, no less ) from my phone began to play out. I stared at the screen.

Simon.

I'd been ignoring him since senior year started, and I really wished he would take the hint. No amount of grovelling or apologizing would make me forget what he did.

"So," Nate whistled. For a second, I had forgotten he was there. "you're still friends with Simon Kelleher."

I shook my head, declining the call. "Friends is a strong word. I haven't talked to him since that AboutThat article he wrote, but I think the friendship had been falling apart long before that."

Nate nodded in understanding. "The article about you and the baseball coach's son, right? The one at Harvard?"

"Yep. Jeremy Ruffalo. The first man I ever loved."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nate asked, tipping his head to the side.

I tried not to look at Nate, with his knowing expression. He knew I'd talk about it. Anything to take my mind off of Iain Lords and the dead Albanian.

"It's a long story, but I suppose we have the time."

NOTES!

nate and charis are finally bonding, and its cute and whatever but its also about to get really angsty in here