"Wake up," Rancid whispers as he shakes his younger brother's shoulders. He's crouched down on one knee, hunched over Palik's makeshift bed of torn comforters. The small quilt only covers up the lower half of his torso and hips, leaving the rest of his clothed body vulnerable to the air. It was fine when it was the summer season, but now that autumn is approaching, it's starting to feel nippy.
He makes a mental note to buy a bigger one before it gets too cold out. The last one was cut up to be used for stitching up clothes that had holes in them.
A rustle comes from behind him and he stiffens, his movements halting. When a shrill voice doesn't break the quiet, he glances behind him and sighs in relief when their mother doesn't wake up. It would've been terrible if she did.
He turns back to Palik and shakes him again. The boy shifts and blinks up at him, his dirty brown hair a mess on his head. He raises a hand to rub his right eye. "Just a little more?" His voice is so low that Rancid almost doesn't hear him.
He purses his lips and shakes his head. "Sorry, not today." He thumps Palik on the back and pushes to a stand. His brother is silent as he drags himself up. He pulls on the worn out shoes by the flimsy metal door of the one room shack they live in.
He steps back and Rancid takes up his spot. He grabs the cool metal handle, and with a firm lift, he carefully eases the door open. They both cringe when a high pitched squeak sounds. They freeze, and Rancid looks over his shoulder to see the sleeping silhouette of their mom. When she doesn't wake up, Rancid lets out a small breath of relief and goes back to opening the door as quietly as he can.
Palik slips out first and waits for him on the dirt road. Rancid closes the flimsy metal piece, making sure it doesn't creak. "Do we have any more oil?" He frowns down at the wobbly hinges that have come loose. He opens up the brown knapsack that hangs from over his shoulder and pulls out a small screwdriver. He bends down and tightens the hinge, all the while Palik blinks, half dazed with sleep.
"No." His brother answers. Rancid pockets the tool and the two of them walk down the dirt path. Both sides of the road are lined with flimsy metal sheds, trash, and the occasional rusted out light post. The sun is now starting to rise, its warmth balancing out the chill in the air.
Rancid squints as two figures turn onto the dirt road further ahead, "Is that Farron and Folly?" He recognizes their familiar gait, and when an awkward sound escapes from his brother, he turns to look at him.
Palik straightens his posture at the familiar names, and any sign of him being tired vanishes. Rancid chuckles when the younger boy, no younger than thirteen, fusses with his hair, shaking it out and then smoothing it down.
The two figures grow closer, and their shapes gain more detail.
"Yo." Farron nods at Rancid, his dark hair shaggy and unkempt. He's the same age as Rancid at nineteen, and only a head shorter. They slap hands in greeting and Farron does the same to Palik. Beside him, his sister, Folly waves, her pigtailed hair knotty and dirty.
"Let's get some sweet cakes for breakfast." Farron says, jabbing his thumb back from the direction he came from, "I saw Vic making some at his stall."
"Sweet cakes?" Folly gasps, shifting her brown eyes to her brother. She looks a lot like him, and if it weren't for her younger age, they could've been twins. "I didn't see any!"
"I know." Farron smirks and reaches to pat the top of her head, "If you had, you'd still be there and I'd have met them by myself." He snorts. The four of them walk down the dirt path towards the market circle that's dedicated to the east side of the city.
After waiting in the queue of Vic's stall, Farron and Rancid walk back to their siblings who talk near a wall that separates the plaza from the road. Rancid gives his brother a stick of sweet cake and meat.
Folly elbows Palik in the ribs, and nods her head in encouragement, "Say it."
Rancid pauses with raised eyebrows when Palik rubs the back of his neck and avoids his gaze. "What is it?" He asks.
Folly nudges Palik forward and the unusually timid boy flushes red. "Since you already bought food, can I have a silver coin?" he asks.
Rancid lifts his skewer and takes a huge chunk of food in his mouth. He chews as he tilts his head down at Palik, dirty, blonde strands of hair falling in front of his heterochromic eyes, one green and one blue, "What for?"
"An Esper collection card." He mumbles. His skewer of sweet cakes and meat is still left untouched, and Rancid frowns.
"Didn't I already get you one?" He asks after he swallows.
"They're collectables." Folly says in exasperation. She holds up her own food in one hand, the other going to her hip, "Hence, you collect."
"Shut up smartass." Farron smacks the back of her head, his cheeks puffed up as he eats. "Just stay out of it." Folly rubs the spot he hit and glares up at him.
"I'll get you one next week." Rancid says as he finishes the last piece of meat he has. He scans for a nearby trash bin, not wanting to worsen the mess on the streets.
"Awe come on." Folly scoffs, "What's the difference between now and next week? That's the worst logic ever."
"It's fine." Palik says, he glances at Rancid and smiles, though it looks forced, "I don't mind waiting." He turns Folly by her shoulders and steers her a few feet away to do their own thing.