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The cold wind whipped through Wes' hair, blowing it to-and-fro across his vision and into his eyes. He should probably ask for a haircut soon, longer hair was always a hassle to deal with.
The roof he sat on was silent, and the surrounding area below was empty. A pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of the new town central.
Rarely anyone came this far out, it was too close to the wastes for most people's liking.
His own little retreat he'd slink to if he became overwhelmed or needed time alone to think.
People were slowly expanding back towards this area, but were still hesitant. It was too close to the shield perimeter, and they didn't feel entirely safe fully testing the waters yet. Plus, no one knew when The Phantom would strike again. If he showed up and the shield held, the buildings nearest were still well within range of thrown projectiles. It was dangerous to be separated and out-of-the-way from the safety of Hunter headquarters, so recon and scavenging efforts to the area had been slow.
He tilted his head up, both to get the wind to blow his hair away from his face, and to look up at the night sky.
Wes was never one for astronomy, he had a hard time making out the shapes that were supposed to be present in the stars. People had tried to show him how to connect the lights in the past, but regardless of their best efforts, Wes couldn't see them as anything more than just dots. So he resigned himself to admire them for what they were; no imaginary strings attached.
Though sometimes, when he was really really bored, he liked finding the brightest lights in the bunch and figuring out which planets they might be based on their color.
It was something to pass the time.
There was little light pollution where he was, so it shouldn't have been difficult to see the specks that adorned the velvety night sky, but the new shield that encased the city was decently dense, and made details from far away cloudy and almost impossible to see.
Wes sighed. It was depressing to think that they would be denied the ability to even stargaze now. So much had changed, but the sky was supposed to be a constant. An anchor.
Yet here they were, and here he was, trapped under the oppressive dark violet-blue light of the shield, unable to see more than the shadowy molasses that blanketed the outside world.
A door clicked shut somewhere behind him, and footsteps sounded across the concrete, sending echoes reverberating down towards the abandoned streets below. Wes didn’t bother to look at who it was.
"Here," came the voice before something cold and metallic was pressed against his face.
His initial reaction would have been to swat the imposing object away, or throw it, if his mood was particularly foul enough, but he couldn't muster the energy to do either. Not today.
Wordlessly, he accepted the offered can and inspected the label, squinting to try and read the print in the dim light.
"Where did you even find this?" Wes asked incredulously, gesturing with the can for emphasis.
As far as he was aware, Amity didn't have a brewery, and there hadn't been any alcohol shipments to or from the town in months. It'd probably been over a year, if he had to guess, maybe closer to two.
That being said, it's not like he had actively been paying too much attention to what was coming and going. But he'd assume, out of all the supplies they needed, cheap beer would not be one or them; nor would it be a priority.
"Pilfered from one of the convenience stores out in the wastes that hadn't been fully looted," Easton huffed as he sat down next to Wes, "Snagged it during our last test run."
"Can beer expire?"
"We're about to find out," came his brother's reply, partially drowned out by a loud pop and the sound of fizz.
Wes followed suit.
All he could say was that it certainly smelled. He'd never had any experience with drinking before, so he wasn't entirely sure what it was supposed to smell like. Though, if he had to guess, it probably wasn't supposed to smell like that.
Their father never drank much, and Kyle's whole thing had been more about weed than alcohol. Sure, Easton had come home wasted from parties a couple times, but they were few and far enough between that Wes couldn't quite recall the scent that lingered on his brother's breath or clothes. He'd been too busy with other matters to really care.
He took a sip, scrunching his nose before setting his dented can off to the side. He couldn't say for sure, but it probably wasn't supposed to taste like that, either.
He let out a sigh as he folded his hands back into his lap, hunching forward slightly to peer at the ground below.
The silence between them stretched on. Wes was content to ruminate in his mind.
He didn't want to talk.
Easton had other plans.
"So, did you hear what they're saying? About the.. ah, what's it called..." his voice cut through the silence as he snapped his fingers, "THE TRIDENT INITIATIVE, that's it. You hear about that?"
"Other than the fact that it's a stupid name?"
"Rumors have been running rampant since the new shield went up. People are throwing a fit over it."
Wes rubbed at his eyes before responding, "And why's that?"
"Well, according to the rumor mill, the current shield's not strong enough to protect the distance it spans, and is more of a stop-gap solution."
"A stop-gap solution to what?"
Easton let out a chuckle, "That’s where this ‘initiative’ comes in. Apparently The Huntress and her dad have proposed a new security plan to the council, but it'll take years to actually finish if the council agrees to pass it through. People worry it won't get done fast enough, and we'll be sitting ducks if the current shield can't hold."
Wes let out a low growl. "And how did people even manage to find out about this?"
Easton simply shrugged. "You know the council, they fight Val every step of the way. They hate the fact that she has just as much authority and sway over the town as they do. I wouldn't be surprised if they leaked it on purpose to paint her in a bad light."
"One day those idiots will see their pathetic little squabble with Valerie is going to be the death of us all," Wes sneered. "She knows what she's doing, and she's done far more for us than those power hungry morons who think they still have even a shred of control over this situation."
Easton only hummed in response, and the conversation fell back into a lull.
Distantly, the sound of something collapsing echoed across the wastes. A dilapidated building that couldn't bear the weight of itself any longer, no doubt.
That, or people were looting around again and accidentally moved something they hadn't meant to while looking for something good. He and his crew would need to be on extra-high alert next time they did a run. Could never be too careful these days.
He picked up his can again and started fidgeting with the tab. Wes could feel the question burning on Easton's tongue from a mile away.
He had that look on his face that said he knew something was up and wasn't about to leave without answers.
Wes hated feeling like he was being scrutinized.
“Spit it out already. I know you have something you wanna say,” he spat vehemently. His patience had long since worn thin.
"Why are you here, dude?"
Ah, there it was.
His brother was looking at him expectantly.
Wes gave a wicked smirk before saying, "Well you see, when two adults love each other very much-"
"Oh ew, no, don't be like that. You know what I mean." Easton shoved his shoulder slightly, "You've been sulky and weird all day, man. More-so than usual. What's up?"
He crossed his arms defiantly, "What would even be considered a baseline for 'sulkiness' or 'weirdness', E? That's not something you can actually quantify."
"Oh yeah? Quantify THIS!" was the only warning Wes got before being pulled into a headlock.
He let out an indignant screech as he tried to pry his brother off him, expired beer spilling everywhere in the turmoil.
They grappled like that for a few seconds, Wes shouting obscenities all the while, before Easton finally let him go. But not before bequeathing him with a noogie.
Wes let out an angry hiss as he rubbed his head, slightly fixing his fly-away locks in the process, "You KNOW I hate it when you do that. You can't just push me around to get what you want! I'm an adult now, you have no right!"
"Sorry bro, but you should know the consequences of avoiding my questions by now." Easton gave an innocent roll of his wrist as he said this, a sly smile dancing across his face. "Besides, you're only 19. And you'll ALWAYS be my littlest brother."
Wes sputtered, half formed protests and insults tumbling out of his mouth as he angrily swatted Eastons shoulder. Easton only laughed, unperturbed and slightly leaning away from the onslaught.
"No- dude- c'mon- seriously!!" Easton managed between chuckles, "I'm being for real right now!"
Wes finally relented, the melancholy once again settling in his bones all too quickly. For just one blissful instant, he'd been somewhere else.
He sighed and a moment passed.
Then another.
And another.
He let them gather like dust under his finger tips.
He really didn't want to have this conversation. He wouldn't be able to stall for long.
"Today's the anniversary of when we first moved to Amity Park," he acquiesced, embarrassment immediately reddening his face.
"... Oh?" Came Easton's quizzical response.
"I mean- look, it's like... wait hold on, let me start over."
He expected his brother to cut in, but Easton remained silent, and Wes hesitantly continued, "It's silly, I suppose. I know you guys never kept track of that sorta thing, but I did, 'cause... well.. It was a big change. And I was afraid that if I didn't keep track of it, I'd forget everything about our lives before that point, and I didn't want to lose all that. Didn't want to lose all the people and things I'd known. I didn't want to let go."
He let out a heavy sigh, laying down on the cold concrete of the roof to stare directly at the star-less tinted sky above them.
"As time went on," Wes continued, "it just became habit. Even as I changed and learned new stuff. I had long since stopped caring about losing things, but tracking the date persisted as something I had to do, ‘or else’, and served more as an 'Oh that happened' sort of reminder. Nothing more than a small pebble sinking into your stomach kind of feeling."
He could hear his brother shifting around, probably trying to get comfortable as well.
"So what does this have to do with the 'now'?" Easton finally asked.
"Well, my problems from back then seem so... I don't know, small? Childish? Easily compartmentalize-able? ...Laughable, in comparison to what we've had to deal with now, but it’s also familiar. Same but different. I used to be scared of losing everything, and now we have. Fate loves her cruel twisted irony, I suppose.” He rubbed a hand over his face to try and catch the few stray tears that had snuck up on him. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying.
“Just when I thought we couldn’t lose any more… Younger me wouldn't even be able to fathom the depths loss could actually go to. I kind of miss it, how simple it used to be, y’know? I wish we could go back."
Easton gave a thoughtful hum in response. The slight ruffle of fabric told Wes his brother had also given a small nod.
"I can't help thinking that... none of this would've happened if we hadn't moved in the first place. If I wasn't here to push Fenton's buttons, or if dad never got that stupid job with Masters. If our parents hadn't..." he stopped, unable to swallow the lump that rose in his throat. He chose his next words carefully, "...If we hadn't moved, maybe Kyle would still be here with us now, and dad wouldn't be one foot in the grave. If... if we had just stayed, we'd still have our future. All of us."
Easton shimmied closer, and Wes could see his brother's forlorn expression from the corner of his eye.
He'd clearly had similar thoughts before, too.
They let the silence wash over them, the spilt beer seeping into random patches of their clothes. A tense, but amiable tension lied between them as they lay splayed on the empty concrete roof.
It stretched on for what felt like hours before Easton finally piped up again.
"What would you do differently?"
Wes cleared his throat, hoping to prevent it from cracking. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you said you wished you could go back. What would you do differently if you were given a do-over?"
"Well, I'd beg to be enrolled in a different high-school for one," Wes snorted. "Then... I don't know, world domination? But I'd be the one dominating it."
Easton simply elbowed him for that, clearly unimpressed with his gallows humor, and Wes snickered.
"What about you?" He asked, tilting his head to get a better look at his brother.
Easton tapped a finger against his chest as he pondered the question. "Hmm... well... I never got a chance to go sky-diving or zip-lining after my grad. I'd like to try those."
"You can always ask Valerie to give you lessons on the hover-sled."
"That's not the same, and you know it! You're still standing on something, I want to feel the weightlessness and freedom that comes with gliding."
"But you'd still get the same wind rush on the sled. Plus, you'd have more control over your turning and movement." Wes pointed out smugly.
Easton propped himself up on an elbow to stick his tongue out at him, and Wes returned the gesture in kind with an audible "mleh!", followed by a murmured "Adrenaline junkie..."
"What was that?" Easton quipped, hand posed and at the ready to taze underneath his ribcage.
"Nothing! Nothing!" He yelped, curling protectively to defend his sides from a potential assault.
When he felt his sides weren't in anymore danger, he relaxed again, taking the time to bunch his hoodie up into a make-shift pillow.
"I'd probably continue to pursue photography," he finally replied after some thought. "I always enjoyed it, and Mizz Lambert used to say I had a knack for it. Maybe I could've gone pro."
"Oh, dude, if you had become a professional photographer, you could've totally gotten some sweet action shots of me that I could use for postcards! I could’ve sold them for 12 dollars-a-pop. Have some cheesy line printed on top that says "crushin' stones and breakin' bones.""
"Pssht, as if anyone would buy that."
"They so would, people do it all the time. It's a gimmick card. I'd become rich!"
"And what about my royalties, hm? If I made you rich, you'd owe me some massive dough. And several favors." Wes snarked, rubbing his index finger and thumb together on one hand, while using the other to poke at his brother.
"You want me to split my spoils with someone who doubts my genius? Fat chance, foil head! I'd hoard that shit like a dragon," Easton's grin was feral. "Besides, I'd be doing most of the work, why would I share it with you?"
Easton knew exactly what he was doing, and so did Wes.
Regardless, he was gonna wipe that smug smirk off his brother's face.
"Because It'd be my money, you inconsiderate-!" The rest of his squawk became incomprehensible as he lunged to playfully tackle his brother. "I'd make you surrender it!"
-
The light of dawn slowly broke over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel pinks and purples that mixed with the dark blues of twilight. The brothers' laughter and shouts echoed off the abandoned buildings and carried over the silent rubble as they wrestled and argued, briefly breathing some life back into the desolate wasteland.
It was the start of a new day.