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The kid had been pretty fucking stupid, the first time they met. Then again, so was he.
To set the scene: Simon had one of Pete’s skinny arms snaked across his shoulders, another draped across Ozzie’s as the two awkwardly had their arms secured around Pete’s broad shoulders. They shouldn’t have stayed out so late - Pete would’ve collapsed within another hour but he’d insisted he wanted to stay and see through the end of their pool hustle plan. Thanks to Simon’s height and ambiguous facial scarring, the trio managed to get their hands on bottom-shelf spirits and utterly trashed before heading out into the night.
The haul hadn’t been worth it. The marks he played in the end were just as poor as he was. Simon had certainly taken notice of some of the wealthier neighborhoods a few streets over, but his face was a little too recognizable to be reported. The cops weren’t going be lenient to a repeat offender, even less to a kid who looked too out of place. It was a shame - he would’ve loved to scam that pearl-clutching crowd blind.
“Sorry guys,” Pete slurred, and stumbled, leaning more of his weight in Simon’s arms. “I knew I’d slow you down. I shouldn’t have came in the first place.”
“Nonsense,” Simon and Ozzie both huffed together. They could never say otherwise to their boy and the idea of leaving him behind was absolutely unthinkable.
“Though, we really should find like, a taxi, or a bus or something,” Ozzie muttered, his scrawny ass deflated under Pete’s lopsided frame.
Simon didn’t have a reply to that, his lips pursed as he scanned the lifeless street. At this hour, there would be no buses available. A cab driver wouldn’t even entertain the thought of stopping for their drunken asses. His mind struggled to figure out the next step, though the residential strip they stumbled upon felt like an odd pocket of stillness. The road noise seemed distant, and the chill that crept on his neck felt invigorating. Peaceful enough for him to think with no one else around awake to notice the three.
Or so it seemed. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon spied a garage door opened just a crack. By the state of the latches it was clear someone had forced their way inside.
He and Ozzie exchanged a look.
“Maybe the owners were lazy?” Ozzie offered. “Or maybe there’s nothing in their to take?
Even with Pete and Ozzie exhausted, Simon felt restless and riled with his curiosity taking reign, he could be tough enough to make up for all three of them. The alcohol helped. Immensely.
(In retelling this story in the future, Simon always takes great care to emphasize how out of his sensible, wise, and /sober/ mind he was during all of this. Ozzie and Pete claim to remember nothing.)
“You guys wait here,” Simon insisted, helping Pete to sit on the edge of the curb, still eyeing the garage door cautiously. Ozzie made move to protest, but Simon gently squeezed his shoulder, giving him a pointed look before letting go.
Through the cracks on the bottom of the garage door Simon could make out the faint flickering of a flash light. Keeping his footsteps as light and quiet as he could in his inebriated state, he tiptoed towards the garage door. As he came close he could hear faint clicks and clangs, a small ping as something small and metal dropped to the floor.
Crouching, Simon extended his hand to the handle of the garage door as the sounds inside continued. It was as he gripped the door that the tinkering stopped. Unfortunately, whoever who put two and two again didn’t react fast enough.
With a powerful jerk, Simon ripped up the garage door so fast he barely caught the flash of alarm on a pair of wide, bright eyes as a haphazard flailing kick sent the flashlight clattering into the wall, the light then extinguished. Despite his eyes not quite adjusting to the sudden darkness, Simon blindly grabbed by his feet, his hand tightening around cloth. He hiked up the figure from the ground, face to face and dangling an alarmed teenager by the hem of his shirt.
It was then Simon who became too slow as the blunt end of a tool cracked square across his temple, vision busting into stars and black dots. Reeling back, Simon’s grip loosened, as kicks connected over and over and over into his shins, ultimately knocking both boys off balance and crashing into the ground.
Simon twisted in his fall, using his side to shoulder the brunt of the damage, a painful groan punched out of him.
Obviously freed now, there was a huff of relief above him as the shorter teen scrambled to his feet, ready to take off. It’s as Simon dragged his palm across his eyes in an attempt to gain his bearings that he was willing to admit his defeat and spend the next few hours staggering across town.
A yelp brought him out of his funk, Simon looking up to find Ozzie tackling the kid into the pavement with a shout. From behind, Pete stood, hoisting the little stranger up, held by one arm as Ozzie secured the other. The kid squirmed on the spot, but Simon catches the gears turning in the guy’s head process that he can’t get out of this one easily.
Simon stands up, and dusts his trousers off. Well. Go team, go.
“Fellas, fellas, fellas,” the kid squeaked, the screwdriver in his grip dropped with a clang onto the pavement as he jerked his hands up defensively in the air. His fear further drawn out by a strained smile. “I see we’re in the middle of a misunderstanding. It’s like, sometimes you’re walking along the neighborhood and happen to notice a really, really sick looking car! And sometimes you have to really put in the effort to, uh, find that beauty and take some pictures?”
The kid gestured wildly as he spoke, hands grasping for straws as quickly has his brain was, “You know what I mean?”
Simon frowned, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me... you weren’t trying to steal this car?”
“What? No! Of course not, ha, who said anything about theft? I didn’t break anything, you won’t have to pay. Just don’t call the cops I swear to god!”
It all clicked together. This guy really thought Simon owned this car.
“Listen, big guy, I didn’t even take anything,” the kid continued, on unfounded audacity. “Sure, you just need to tighten up a couple screws under there and she’ll run just fine!”
“Two things,” Simon said, wincing as a throb of pain bounced around his skull. “Three things, actually. First, ow, fuck you. Second, that is the shittiest lie I’ve ever heard. Third, if you’re planning on stealing on this car, I could really use your help.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Simon pointed at the car, using his other hand braced against the garage door frame. “You think we give a crap about pictures or whatever the hell? I’m no snitch. You drop us off far away from here and you can take the damn thing with you. No cops needed.”
The stranger blinked once, twice, opening his mouth but without sound to follow through. Pulling himself together, he squeaked out, “What?”
Pete and Ozzie were both red in the face, and Simon waved them both to let the guy down. After letting the little guy go, the two immediately collapsed, exhausted by the haul. To Simon’s surprise, the kid didn’t bolt, instead stood still and regarding each drunk, tired, and injured member of their trio, the proverbial gears in his head at work once more.
“I’m trying to get them home,” Simon slurred with a shrug, gesturing to Pete lying down on his back. “Pete can’t be staying out too long else he gets sluggish and slower with his injuries. And Ozzie can’t keep up with my drunk ass. Doesn’t even compare.” Crouching down, he gave Ozzie a gentle slap on the back where the young man sat with his head in his hands, breathing heavily.
“And I was doing fine,” Simon began, poking an accusatory finger to the stranger’s chest. “That is, until some prick walloped a goddamn screwdriver at my head. Thanks for using the blunt end by the way, otherwise we’d both be fucked.”
“Ah.” The guy shuffled awkwardly on the spot. “I mean, it would’ve been really, really bad for me if I were caught by the actual owners of this vehicle, you know that right?”
Simon waved his hand dismissively, unable to maintain his balance and falling on his ass, sprawled out onto his back. “I’m sure they got that platinum insurance plan covered, you’d be doing them a favor, really.”
The little guy didn’t seem to have an answer to that, his face twisted in some sort of grimace. He took a step towards Simon, extending a hand.
“Name’s Zee, by the way.”
Simon blinked, accepting Zee’s hand and shook once before allowing Zee to pull him up into a sitting position.
“Simon. Where does ‘Zee’ come from?”
A smile graced Zee’s face, as he chuckled. “Eh, the only ounce of humor my mother had, she blew it on naming me that; the youngest and final of five.”
Simon snorted. “She sounds like a charming woman.”
A groan from Pete caught Simon’s attention, and he couldn't help but furrow a brow, unsure of what the next step to take. He’s momentarily startled by the pat on his shoulder, looking up to see Zee’s sympathetic expression.
“If you let me take that car I can finish hot-wiring the engine if you and your buddies want to get where you need to.”
That’s... awfully generous. Simon couldn’t have helped the wariness in his tone as he asked, “That’s it? You don’t need anything else from us?”
“Bud, seems you were also trying to steal a car while piss drunk. It seems like you lot don’t have much to offer anyway.”
From behind him, Simon heard Ozzie gasp, indignant, before grumbling to himself. It may have been the alcohol or the head trauma namely speaking, but Simon accepted that Zee had a point.
With the door open and streetlights glow, Simon could actually inspect the open garage. The previously lit flashlight that had flung around the garage during the commotion laid within reach. Upon closer inspection, the bulb wasn’t broken, and with a few thumping smacks, the beam of light fixed itself on.
“Do your magic."
With a smirk, Zee took the flashlight and collected his screwdriver from the ground with it before hopping back into the open driver’s seat. It managed to be a quieter job than Simon expected, now taken a step back to watch Zee work unobstructed.
“Listen, shift to neutral and help me push this thing onto the road first,” Simon says, stood by the driver’s door. “We’ve already made enough of a mess and I don’t want the engine running unless we can ride out immediately.”
“Hm, true, true.” Zee shifted gears into neutral and hopped out. Both boys make way to the back of the car, but not before Simon signals Ozzie to move out the way, who complied with Pete slung around his shoulders.
Even said with disingenuous intent, Zee was right about the car being a beauty. He can imagine the owner was some young hotshot who blew a paycheck over an overpriced ride to impress his sweetheart, but neither the hindsight nor the security to sufficiently stop miscreants like them from taking it.
Grunting with effort, the two managed to roll it down the driveway and onto the road. Ozzie took charge in helping Pete inside the backseat before sliding in next to him. Simon took to the passenger seat as Zee returned back to his work.
“C’mon, c’mon, man,” Zee mumbled, right as the engine growled with a start. With a cheer, Zee slammed the driver’s door shut, checking his blind spots. Light erupted behind closed curtains in the house behind them, and Simon barely had time to whip his head back to snap at Zee and shout, “Go, go, GO MOTHERF-”
They took off with a screech, houses and bars a blur behind them as Zee floored it. From the corner of his eye, Simon saw Zee barely trying to contain his own delight with a shit eating grin, white knuckled at the wheel. Disorienting as it was, Simon couldn’t help the cackle bubbled up in his throat with the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins, a hand slammed on the dashboard as he threw his head back in laughter.
Simon finds that the rest of his memory of that night is too muddled to remember exact details of how exactly he got back home. He woke up the next morning on the floor of his bathroom feeling like his head has been hollowed out with a scoop. It took a few minutes for Simon to spot the blue ink scrawled on his arm, even longer to realize what he was reading. A username. Underneath:
"GTA tonight?"