((Wooo! Just finished the AP Chemistry Exam. Well, kicked its ass is a better description. Anyway, math and science are shit compared to writing and liberal arts, so I started a little bit of free-write for a story. Well see how this baby turns out. Inspirational song: The Nobodies by Marilyn Manson.
A/N: Admittedly, the plot and some dialogue started out as an email roleplay, so I cant claim full rights to it. That was well over a few years ago, but the Anon that helped develop my characters and a few scenes should get a tiny bit of credit.))

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He had just realized how cold it was when wide brown eyes shot open to stare at the cream colored walls of the apartment. He stiffened slightly before sitting up, tugging at the single comforter he had wrapped around his body. Feeling a little sick, his eyes gazed sorely around the room, scanning the tiny kitchen with a few TV dinners scattered about the counter, to the five and a half year old boy staring at one of the very few books that he possessed. The child was a short boy with fluffy blond hair, having the same wide squirrely eyes as his older brother. His fingers were stuck in his mouth, chewing his nails out of a bad habit as he turned to the next page in his story.

Milo Bryce curled his legs up, trying to regain the heat in his body as he winced. He had left the window open all night and had hardly gotten a wink of sleep. He had managed to work late at the diner last night when a little 'convoy' of truckers had pulled in to grab a quick evening meal. Which was good, despite his aching body. He would be able to feed himself and his brother for a while now, and maybe even buy his brother some new clothes.

It was a little sad to think about how expensive things were these days. Milo remembered when his brother was born in the hospital and he was staying with his mothers parents. He only remembered his grandfather. The house had been warm and the walls were so bright and cheery, and he remembered the television, the computer they had, and the many wooden crosses that hung as decorations in their home.

Milo had been twelve at the time, and hadnt met his grandfather before that night. It had been an awkward time, as he recalled sitting scrunched up on the couch, too afraid to do or say anything. His grandfather had tried to be friendly and lighten the situation, telling Milo of how much harder things were back in his time and how kids could get a soda and a bag of candy for a nickel. Or something along those lines.

It was a cool night when his mother had brought Jesse home from the hospital. She had gone inside with the baby, and Milo was waiting out on the front step of a door in a suburban neighborhood as his family yelled at each other inside. After leaving with his mother then, he couldn't recall where his grandparents had lived, or even if they were still alive to this day. No one had kept in touch with him. Milo was pretty sure that Jesse didn't even have the same father as him.

But his mother was a drug addict, not a mean woman, but she knew that she couldn't do a thing about her children. When Jesse was a few years old she had vanished, leaving Milo alone to take care of his brother. Alone in a harsh district where no one was willing to guide children through to a police station. Shed come around once, a year or so ago, and attempted to rekindle their relationship and resume her role as a mother. It hadnt worked out. But at least she knew where they were, and Milo had gotten her to sign some emergency papers the school had been asking for.

Milo had seemed to make it through just fine over the years. How? God only knew, but he often struggled to do it. Hed maintained a job at a diner from his early teenaged years, lying about his age for the money even before his mother left. Along their journeys they found a woman who was kind enough to let them stay at her apartment complex for little cost. Shed felt pity when Milo attempted to ask her how much an apartment would cost. He, of course, didn't dish out his whole life, but he explained that they were street smart and that they were at least enrolled in public school.

So here they were. Milo was trying hard not to remember what life was like back then. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that he didn't have a big warm happy family. Or that they didn't have money to throw around and do whatever they wanted with. The only option was to move forward.

"How long have you been up?" Milo questioned Jesse as he tugged the covers off, heading to a chair of folded clothes that he had brought back up from the laundromat yesterday.

"Five minutes," Jesse replied bluntly as his eyes stayed glued on the book. Milo rolled his eyes, smiling a little as he headed to the washroom to take a quick shower to wake himself up. He wasn't going to waste his money on getting addicted to stimulants like coffee, stuff he couldn't afford every morning, noon, or night. Drying his dull brown hair quickly, Milo tried to comb the messy rooster tails out that were ridiculously hard to tame.

He examined his soft pale skin in the mirror before grabbing his blue toothbrush and squirting a small amount of paste on it before beginning to brush away at his teeth, which thankfully weren't crooked and in need of serious attention. Only one of the things he was proud to inherit from his parents.

Plucking the black shirt off the floor, he slid it over his shoulders and tugged firmly on the hem so he could see the logo clearly. Marilyn Manson. How lovely. The shirt was about the only intimidating thing about Milo. He was only five foot four, just a little taller than the average height for a fourteen year old girl, with about the muscle mass to match. He was a slim boy, but no where near bony enough for how most people would think a poor kid to be.

Coming out of the bathroom, Milo snatched a banana peel off the floor that Jesse had left. "In the garbage next time Jesse. You can't leave food on the floor and all over the place. It attracts mice and bugs," he explained, watching as the young boy crinkled his nose in disgust.

As soon as they were ready, he had put a jacket on Jesse rather forcefully before slinging his own backpack over his shoulders. They had to walk to school, which wasn't too bad. The morning walks were more refreshing than irritating. He was thankful at least for that, as he dropped his younger brother off at the elementary school after telling him not to go anywhere until he came to get him at three o'clock.

Milo sighed, staring down at his ruffled shoes as he finally entered the courtyard of the high school. He looked just about as casual as any teenager, maybe a little scruffier, but he most certainly didn't tell anyone about his life style. He didn't want the sympathy or pity. And what was more, Milo didnt want to be separated from his little brother. It was better for the both of them if he just struggled through his senior year and established custody over Jesse when he was eighteen and graduated. Afterall, Milo had made it this far. And he didn't plan on quitting any time soon.

The hallways at school always reminded Milo of a river. The constant push and pull of the student body that was impossible to fight against, interrupted only by the occasional tributary down another hall. Each group stuck with their own kind, rarely straying from their respective school. They rose together, ate together, and oftentimes fought together. It was a security issue, Milo supposed. It was easier to avoid the sharks.

"Hey Milo." The boy in question glanced up from his locker to find a tall red-headed girl standing sheepishly beside his locker. She was fair, with a splash of freckles spanning her cheeks.

"Good morning Kendra," he greeted in return, offering her a smile. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long. You're later than usual. Just wanted to see if you were here."

Milo nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Kendra, and a few others he'd gotten to know over the years, were the closest thing besides Jesse he considered to be family. He had avoided the subject of his living situation, but whether or not they suspected anything was beyond Milo. They were the kind of friends that made good company when he needed it, or the kind to call for help on a school assignment. Not the kind he'd call on a Friday night to hang out with. Recently though, Kendra had started talking to him more. While Milo didn't mind the company, her ulterior motives at a closer relationship unnerved him a little. He didn't have the time to devote to a girlfriend.

"So how was your chemistry test yesterday? You said you were worried about it," Kendra asked.

"I'm not sure. Science was never one of my best subjects," Milo replied with a shrug. She smiled back encouragingly and placed one of her manicured hands on his shoulder.

"Well I'm sure you did fine. You're smart and capable." Her fluttery voice brought a smile to his face, though he couldnt help but sense her flirting.

"Thanks Kendra," Milo replied, patting her hand gently. She was a pretty girl, a little clumsy, and had never really found her clique in school. Occasionally she was made fun of because of her height, and in turn had fostered a resentment toward anyone she deemed prettier than herself. Milo had attempted to talk her out of it a while back ago, but she remained stubborn. The way he saw it, harboring unreasonable animosity toward other people only hindered her chances of making new friends.

They were on their way to their first class together, an art elective. With all the school work Milo had to keep up with on top of having a job and taking care of his younger brother, he needed something that would take his mind away from the stress. Art in all mediums provided Milo with the solace he needed. He liked painting and theater because he was able to escape into the confines of his creativity and imagination rather than being subject to everyday stress. There was a thin but well-defined line between imagination and reality though; Milo was well aware of it.

He was so engrossed in thought that it took Milo a moment to realize that Kendra had stopped walking and that he had almost walked into somebody. He was about to stammer out an apology when he realized the person actually meant to talk to him.

"Nice shirt."

Milo found he was staring into the face of a male he'd seen around school a few times before. He couldn't recall a name, but he was taller than Kendra and had a smile that made his eyes pinch shut at the corners.

"Thanks," Milo murmured, glancing down at his choice of attire. A distorted picture of Marilyn Manson stared back at him, at which point he realized he was probably being teased. Kendra rolled her eyes and made a grab for Milo's wrist, throwing the other male a dark look.

"No, I'm serious. I have all thirteen albums."

Milo politely shrugged out of Kendra's grasp and looked up at the male. "He's putting out a new album next year. And technically, he only made nine studio albums. The rest are compilation, live, or EPs... which he has a lot of."

"Ah, a fellow Manson fan who isn't just trying to freak out their parents. Nice to meet you. It's Milo, isn't it?"

"Yeah. And yours?"

"Kristopher," he replied. The warning bell signaling class would start soon rang. The churning sea of students started to disperse.

"What class are you on your way to?"

"Calculus. Boring stuff." Kristopher smiled again. Whoever this was, regardless of Kendra's antipathy toward him, he'd made Milo's morning a little brighter.

"Well, that's on the other side of the school," Milo pointed out. Kendra had firmly taken hold of his wrist and was attempting to get him into the classroom.

"Oh. It is, isn't it? Well, it was nice talking to you. Ill see you around.

The door closed behind Kendra and Milo as the final bell rang. He couldn't help but think, a little excitedly, that Kristopher would be late to class because of their conversation. It was rare to find someone interesting to talk to. Rarer still if they had anything in common with him.

"What was that all about?" Kendra asked. Her face was set in a hard line, like she suspected the guy of treachery. Milo brushed it off. Kendra was always suspicious.

"I'm not really sure."