Wanderlust

By, hionlife

Note: Should warn you now, its rated for language. Nothing ya'll haven't heard before.

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Chapter 1, Prologue

Chicago, Illinois

It's early, way too early in the opinion of most teenagers, on one of those hazy, sticky summer mornings when Christopher shows up, unannounced, at his door.

"Morning General," Christopher grins. "Hope I didn't wake you." David rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks, curiously eyeing the boy's tourist like get up, complete with neon orange board shorts. The kind with fifty different pockets and zippers that David had personally avoided like the plague.

"What are you doing here?"

Christopher backs off the porch step and pulls the fisherman's hat off his head in order to perform a deep bow.

"I'm here to whisk you away," he announces.

"I really don't care to be whisked," David replies, in a way that makes Christopher think he probably wouldn't mind it. It's as good an invitation as any he'll get and he shoulders his way past the boy and into the house.

"Just get your shit together Dave," he says. "This trains leaving in five minutes."

"Christopher," David sputters, following him through his own house. "What are you talking about? Where are you going?" The blonde ignores him, glancing around the cluttered house he spots a pile of dirty laundry in the hall and begins to paw through it.

"We," Christopher tells him with emphasis. "Are going to Cleveland."

"Cleveland?" David repeats. "What the hell's in Cleveland?"

Christopher grins lazily in response and pushes a pair of dark sunglasses onto his nose.

"Rock n' roll."

"You're kidding."

"Not really."

"You're drunk."

"Ah, no," Christopher frowns at this and tosses him a t-shirt from the pile.

"We can't go to Cleveland," David insists, grabbing his wallet from the hall table.

"You're right," Christopher smirks, wondering if David realizes that his actions aren't exactly mirroring his words. "How about Texas? Los Angeles?" He pauses in thought, blue eyes growing wide in excitement; he slaps David on the back. "Mexico."

"No," David persists, his voice muffled by the cotton fabric as he pulls it over his head. "We can't just leave."

"Yes, we can," Christopher replies and shoves him out the door with the t-shirt still halfway over his head.

"We can't," David continues, stepping away from Christopher, who moans and drags his feet across the sun fried grass toward the curb.

"Why not David? Why the hell not?"

"We don't have any money," David begins.

"I've got money," Christopher says and then grins wickedly at David's skeptical look. "Don't you worry about it, princess."

David glowers at him and stands immobile on the sidewalk, feels the heat from the concrete soaking through his sneakers.

"I've got work," he finally says. Christopher shakes his head and grabs the brunettes shoulder, peers closely at him.

"How much of your time are you going to waste at Starbucks? Really, the place is a pit. Who cares?"

"Me and my wallet," David replies. Christopher smiles and yanks open the driver's door.

"I told you not to worry about the money. Now let's go already." David shakes his head and crosses his arms.

"I can't just leave. My mom--"

"Won't give a flying fuck," Christopher returns. "And you know it." David scowls at him for a moment and glances at the house once more before heading around the car.

"Fuck you, Christopher," he says and slides into the passenger seat.

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Note: There's lots more to this if anyone's interested. "Better to be critical than to be silent." I was sitting in the hall, waiting for my class to start last night and the journalism prof (I think) who was teaching said exactly that. I think its lovely advice. I also think it would be lovely if my friends would come kidnap me for random roadtrips, but they tend to laugh when I ask. No one ever takes me seriously. sigh...