— Chapter 31 —

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I didn't know what to expect at first.

Elliot didn't say much as he gestured for me to follow behind him, leading us down winding city streets. The roads were slick with the remains of a soft rainfall that had ended not longer than an hour earlier. It couldn't have been later than three in the dead of night.

Aside from the occasional drunk passerby or traveling car, the city around us was asleep. That didn't tire Elliot, though, who seemed to weave through the backends of buildings as if he knew the geography of Boston down to the last road sign.

"Where are we even going?" I asked him, my breath forming a thin mist in the air.

"You'll see," he answered cryptically. "This way."

I followed him curiously as we escaped into a dimly-lit alleyway between two apartment buildings. There was nothing to it aside from a dumpster and overflowing trash cans—the back half was blocked off by a chain-linked fence.

Elliot asked, "Can you climb?"

I gave him a look.

"You wanna jump the fence?"

He shrugged. "It's either that or we take the long way around, so... your choice."

I looked at the fence. It was probably double my height, behind trash bins and deserted furniture. It definitely wouldn't have been the first fenced I'd ever climbed over before, but... it was definitely pretty high up there.

"...Fuck it."

Elliot gave me a small smile in response. Heading over to the fence, there was a somewhat perplexed look on his face as he took a second to figure out how he was going to get over.

I began, "You sure you know what you're doi—"

I didn't get the chance to finish, though, as Elliot took a few steps backward. The plastic bag rested between his teeth. Running up to get some momentum, he jumped upwards and kicked his foot to a corner where the fence met the building. The force was enough to give him more height. Latching on at the top of the fence, he pulled himself up and managed to get a leg over onto the other side—sitting right at the peak of the barrier.

He made that look... way too easy, I thought, lips parted open in surprise..

Shaking out his pale-brown hair once he found balance, Elliot took a hold of the white bag as his hazel-colored eyes came to rest on me.

He smiled, "You coming?"

I muttered under my breath, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Watching as he jumped off of the fence down to the other side, I took a look at my surroundings to figure out how exactly I was going to do... whatever Elliot just did.

Copying his technique, I took a run-up to the fence and kicked out in the same way. Finally latching onto the top of the fence, I pulled myself up and got both feet over the side. My creeping fear of heights nagged at the back of my mind, seeing Elliot standing patiently for me to join him on the ground.

I decided to just take the risk and hop down. Feeling the impact in my calves, I let out a sharp exhale and managed to get myself steady on my feet.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Elliot asked me, a sort of pride gleaming in his eyes.

"How often do you do this?" I said hoarsely, dusting off my hands. The exertion was enough to have me short of breath.

Still messing with the back of his hair, he admitted, "It's been a while."

His hair had come loose from its tie, now falling freely down the sides of his face. Light-brown wreaths reached just above his neck, dark roots shadowing at his scalp. Soft fringes layered the sides of his temples, fanning gently over his eyebrows. But it wasn't until that I saw the smile on his lips that I realized one stupidly absurd fact.

I'd never seen him with his hair out before.

I couldn't help but stare at the way it swayed with his movements. Pulling a spare tie from his wrist, Elliot turned away for a second and began to gather his hair together.

"No... don't," I murmured.

He looked back at me through his thick lashes, innocent eyes flashing over with confusion at my words.

I mentioned softly, "It looks better out."

Elliot chuckled lightly at my words, a scarlet color staining his cheeks as he turned around in embarrassment. But he didn't put his hair up after that.

"Let's just... let's just go," he fumbled, trying to hide the grin threatening to show on his flushed cheeks.

Smiling to myself at his reaction, I watched as he began to walk off. I snapped out of my temporary daze and went after him, keeping up pace as he led us into a smaller alley.

It was no wider than a meter horizontally. Just enough space for the two of us to slip through, I sucked in a breath as I did my best not to fall behind.

"How do you even know where you're going?" I asked as Elliot took hold of my hand.

Pulling me into a large backstreet, I frowned to myself, thinking that surely there couldn't be any more left to go. How exactly did Elliot know all of this?

Elliot explained, "These streets basically raised me. Come on, we're almost there."

We finally managed to get into what looked to be the last alley. I kept my focus on Elliot the entire time, still slightly in awe of his new demeanor.

His hair was definitely much nicer when it was let free like this. It fell in loose waves, soft from the bleach he must've dyed it with. Maybe having it out gave him confidence, maybe it made him self-conscious, I didn't exactly know. But he seemed... comfortable.

"We made it," he said.

The alley we were in was entirely empty. It wasn't too narrow, leaving a space between two apartment buildings constructed of dark bricks. The rain had formed puddles in the loose pieces of road, potholes filling with muddy water as I tried to avoid staining my sneakers.

The walls themselves were absolutely deformed with graffiti. Dozens of words and pictures were marked onto the buildings in different colored paints. The biggest one seemed to be the oldest, too, and was a word etched in with old, white, and black paints.

Elliot left the bag down by the left wall and pulled out his cans of spray paint, tossing me the red one.

He shook his can a few times and stood back from the wall, directly across the largest piece of graffiti. For a few long seconds, he didn't say any words, his eyes conveying an expression I couldn't quite understand completely. Melancholy, maybe?

I looked up to get a better look at what he was staring at.

In large letters, the piece simply read, ''. Marked on impressively with faded paints, it seemed like something that had been forgotten over the years. My gaze caught on the small letters above it.

''.

"You did this?" I asked, figuring quickly that the stood for Elliot Taylor.

He nodded slowly.

I turned back to the graffiti. "Then... what now?"

Pursing his lips for a moment, Elliot shook out the back of his hair and let out a soft exhale.

"Now... we cover up a mistake."

With wide eyes, I watched as he pulled off the cap to his spray paint and covered the bottom half of his face with his elbow. Stepping up to the wall, he shook the can a few more times, causing a rattling sound to fill the air.

Then he let the black paint free.

Hissing loudly as it exited, dark ink began to mark over the word written onto the wall. Moving with long strokes, Elliot held the canister close to the wall and kept his face covered as thick lines of paint began to mark the bricks.

"You're welcome to join me," he murmured, voice muffled through the fabric over his lips. I could already smell the fumes.

I'd never exactly graffitied anything before, but... well, you only live once, right?

The rattling sound filled the air again as I shook the can of red paint in my hands. Popping the cap off with my thumb, it fell to the ground as I held the can up to the '' on the wall.

Excitement coursed through my bones as I pressed down on the nozzle. Red paint seemed to explode outwards, spraying over the old graffiti that Elliot had already begun to cover.

"It smells like shit," I pointed out, giving in to the enthralled smile that pulled on my lips.

Elliot chuckled, "Just don't get it on your hands."

"I can't believe I'm only seeing this side of you now," I began. "Who knew that under all that brooding there was somebody in there who knew how to have fun?"

"...I can have fun," he mumbled. "Besides, when was the last time you graffitied a building?"

"When was the last time you graffitied a building?"

Elliot thought for a moment, letting black ink drip down the wall as he pressed on the nozzle to his can.

"Senior year was a weird time," he said, mumbling his words beneath the arm that was covering his face. "A friend and I used to go about Boston doing this. I regret it now, and it was a shit thing to be doing, but... I was just around the wrong people, I guess."

I gave him a look, nodding to the piece of graffiti we'd mostly covered up. "There's more of this around the city?"

"If they haven't been cleaned off by now, yeah," he nodded. "But this is the last time I'm doing this."

I looked to the wall of splattered paints. "And... why are we covering this up, exactly? It's kind of old enough as it is."

Elliot kept his gaze trained on the bricks, but I couldn't help but notice the change that had washed over his demeanor. His figure seemed stiff, eyes staring blankly at the word on the wall as if—ironically enough—it brought him nothing but sadness.

There was something important about why he'd chosen to come here, but I couldn't figure out exactly what that important notion was. I didn't have the guts to ask.

His fragile voice answered me sotto voce. "I'm just... making sure the dead stays dead."

My mind was drawn back to the words he'd spoken at the parlor.

"Your ex?" I asked.

An emotion I could finally understand flashed over Elliot's hazel-colored eyes. Pain. The kind that could only stem from a messy heartbreak.

The '' that had once marked the wall was gone. In its place, a black void of dark spray paint, effectively erasing what looked to be one of Elliot's deepest regrets.

Elliot himself seemed lost in his thoughts, holding the can still for a moment as black paint continued to spray excessively in one place. As the paint dripped down the wall, Elliot finally turned his head to me and opened his mouth to say something.

But he didn't get the chance. Another sound cut him off entirely.

"Hey!" Someone yelled out. A deep, gruff voice, coming from above our heads. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Elliot and I snapped our attention up to one of the windows. It was the tenant to one of the apartments, sticking his head out to rest a deep glare down at the two of us.

Surprisingly enough, Elliot looked up at me with an excited look in his eyes.

He asked, "Remember when I said we could get arrested?"

I grinned. "I take it this is our cue to run?"

A small smile pulled on his lips.

"Bingo."

Pulling the black hood of his jacket over his head, Elliot picked up the plastic bag from the floor. Dropping the cans of spray paint inside, I took the bag as Elliot took a firm hold on my free hand. The two of us broke out into a run, Elliot pulling me in the direction we'd first come from.

"I'm calling the police! Get back here!" The tenant began to shout. "Martha, call the damn cops!"

"Let's go!" Elliot whispered, running both of us out of the alleyway.

We followed the path we'd taken to get there in the first place. Squeezing through the small backstreet, then back to the next alley. Muddy water splashed against my shoes.

When we finally ran up upon the fence, I gave Elliot a look.

"We really have to hop it again?" I rasped, trying to catch my breath.

Elliot looked around for a moment as we both came to a stop. He didn't let go of my hand.

"This way," he decided, spotting a small space between two buildings.

Pulling the two of us into it, Elliot let out a small grunt as I held my breath against the smell. It was putrid, like the rotting of an animal. Just as it was beginning to burn my eyes, Elliot and I finally came out on the other side.

It was a small street, but Elliot didn't stop there. We ran until we reached an intersection, turning left and dodging a large puddle in the path.

We followed the road for a little longer. The sound of sirens in the distance wasn't too reassuring, but Elliot seemed to have it under control. He pulled us into another back alley, and I listened carefully as the sirens began to fade slowly.

It was a bit longer of traveling the backstreets before Elliot and I finally came upon a main road.

"You think we're good?" I asked him.

Elliot turned around, light on his feet as he headed out onto the road.

He opened his mouth to speak, but my attention was drawn away by something moving in the distance. Elliot had his hazel eyes trained on me, completely unaware of the car that was heading right in his direction.

"Yeah, we're good," he spoke. "They won't find us out he—"

His words were cut short as I immediately gripped onto his shirt, pulling him out of the path of the car. A stunned look crossed his face as his weight collided with mine. Somewhat winded, I pressed Elliot's head to my shoulder.

Keeping him to my chest for a few moments as the car blew its horn at the both of us, I let the vehicle go in the distance before I finally loosened my grip.

"Fucking asshole," I snapped about the driver. "Where the fuck were his headlights? He could've killed someone."

Elliot stared up at me with wide eyes, still frozen to my chest.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, checking him over briefly. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine..." he stammered, "but what the hell just...?"

Trailing off, his gaze followed the car that was driving off in the distance. Still holding my jacket, he shuddered.

"That's twice now, Alley Cat," I mentioned lightly.

He frowned, still bewildered, "Twice?"

"The number of times you've almost been run over," I specified, letting a small smile pull on my lips as I held up two digits. "Twice."

A notably deep exhale left his lips as his cheeks flushed red, noticing just how close the two of us were to each other. Finally taking a step back, he bit the side of his cheek and hid his eyes behind the soft fringe of his hair.

"How many lives do you have left, Alley Cat?" I chuckled, peering at him from beneath my cap. "It's gotta be at least seven by now."

Surprisingly, Elliot teased, "One of those times was your fault."

"You ran out onto the road! Both times!"

He laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I just supposed to know exactly when a car plans on running me over?"

"Look both ways before crossing the street! They teach you that in first grade!"

"I almost failed the first grade!"

"How do you fail first grade?"

"I said almost!"

I couldn't help the grin on my cheeks. "It's literally the first grade! The only thing you need to know is the alphabet!"

"M through to V was hard, okay?"

I could hardly breathe. "M to V?"

Elliot shushed me, chuckling at my volume. "You're going to wake up the entire neighborhood!"

"So what?" I laughed, stretching my arms behind my back. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Noah!"

The two of us continued the banter as we reached the end of the street. Returning to our normal volume, Elliot and I laughed with each other.

A few minutes later, we turned down into a large backstreet behind a block of apartment buildings, our humor slowly softening out.

All the lights in the apartments were turned off. Aside from the faint barking of a dog somewhere in the distance, everything was quiet around us. It made me wonder exactly how long the two of us had been out for.

Elliot walked a few paces just ahead of me. In an easy stroll, I asked out in curiosity, "So what did you usually draw when you graffitied things like this?"

"Why're you asking?"

"I wanna know if I've seen some of your other stuff around," I said. "You're not the only one who's grown up on these streets."

"I doubt you'd have seen anything," he smiled softly. "Nothing memorable, at least."

"Come on, now you've gotta tell me."

He thought for a moment.

"It wasn't the kind of artistic stuff you'd usually see," he shrugged. "It was... stylization, cartoons, tags... things like that."

"You had a tag?" I grinned, amused.

He nodded, pink staining his cheeks. "It was stupid."

"What was it?"

"You... really wanna see that?"

I nodded eagerly. Elliot gave me an intrigued look, turning briefly to glance at his surroundings for a moment.

Pulling out the can of red spray paint, Elliot headed to the back of a wet wall. Checking to see that I was watching first, he held up the canister and pressed down on the nozzle. Wet paint began to hiss onto the wall, Elliot drawing in long, smooth strokes.

It took a few seconds before he stepped back to let me see.

"Don't laugh," he joked.

I took a look at the red ink beginning to dry. It was a small, simple cartoon. In what looked like an alien spaceship, a small blob—which I was assuming was Elliot's alien—stared outwards with one, big eye. It was the kind of thing you'd see in a children's book. But most importantly, it was familiar.

"Is that... is that a spaceship?" I asked, trying to suppress my laughter. "Why the alien?"

"It was funny at the time," Elliot promised. "My initials, ET. Like the movie, actually. That's why you get the alien."

I let my laughs free from my lips. "Right, right, yeah—hilarious."

Elliot whined, "Seventeen-year-old me thought it was witty, alright?"

"Witty enough to paint onto the bottom of an overpass?" I grinned, finally figuring out where I'd seen the little spaceship before. Elliot's eyes widened at my words.

"So you have seen it before?"

"Mhm. Yellow paint, right?" I said. "Ballsy of you to have tried it there. There's cameras all over that area."

He scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish look creeping onto his face. "Rebellious teenage years, I guess."

As he spoke, I began to use the spray paint on the building we'd been walking along.

"Noah, oh my god," Elliot stammered, watching as I started painting words on the bricks.

In red paint, I marked down Stray Dogs, letting the ink drip like scarlet blood from the sharp letters. It took up a considerable amount of space.

I figured my memory was shit enough—if I wasn't going to remember much of tonight out of my own exhaustion, at least the graffiti could serve as a reminder.

Elliot's worry was evident in the way his voice faltered. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Making memories."

"Are you sure you want to be writing that?" Elliot asked, his brows contorting with anxious concern. "Wouldn't the police recognize the name?"