Brothers of the Day and Night

Night had fallen and the moon had risen, and Ozymandias Alexander Vísosópoulos was on the move. His breath came out in pants as he ran down the street, shoving his way through people in his frantic run to his destination. His eyes blurred with sweat and tears, but he couldn’t wipe them even if he wanted to as weight kept his arms in place. But still he pressed forward with gritted teeth.

Al’s heart beat fast and hard, and a ringing filled his ears as he continued on. A distant part of him registered that he was entering the beginning states of a panic attack of some sort; a pulsation in his temples that stung his eyes. People called out to him, but he ignored them; didn’t so much as acknowledge their existence. Nothing mattered to him; nothing except getting to where needed to under moonlit sky.

“Al.”

His name came out from a scratchy voice that wasn’t his own. He ignored it, didn’t so much as stumble as he continued on. He couldn’t afford to be late. Not about this. His head ached as he continued to his destination, and he was tempted to stop for just a moment; stop and see what it is they wanted, but he shook his head and kept going. He knew that if he stopped, he would only regret it later. All it took was a moment for him to lose control. There was no one else who could understand what Al was going through right now; no one that he knew of at least. And so, keeping his pace steady, he continued on. And somehow, despite his focus and resolution to block out the rest of the world, Al heard him.

“Al?”

And just like that, the streets were clear and all that stood between Al and his companion was nothing but the air. The other boy stood across from him, leaning against a crossing signal: arms crossed as he gave Al a small smirk; the light of full moon bathing his head in a pale halo that pooled around his short hair. Al breathed out, relief pumping through him. With a shaky smile, Al slowed his pace into a controlled walk as he approached.

And then the scene changed. The moon died and the sun rose, and the heavens were filled with color that bared down on the mortal world with brilliance beyond words. Al watched the changing of the scenery with a dazed look upon his face. Reaching his friend, Al enveloped him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you, man,”

But he didn’t so much as give Al a look. Instead he starting at a point beyond Al.

“Who’s that?”

His pointed finger led to the other street that Al had just left, where someone else stood. Eyes wide, Al was stumped, but he wasn’t afraid or anxious this time. Instead he felt relief course through him once more at the realization that he’d found his best friend again.

“What took you so long, bro?” the second of Al’s companions asked. “You were almost late.”

Al’s mouth opened, but no sound would come out. He shook head and pressed his lips together, running his tongue across them. “Bro...”

“Who is he man?” Al’s first companion asked, growing impatient.

Al bit his lip. “That’s...just hold on for a second.” He let go of his friend, and quickly ran back across the street.

“What’s the hold up, bro?” The boy asked as Al made it back. “Don’t you care?”

Al stopped: shocked that was even asked. “Of course I do!”

He shook his head, cutting Al off. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late now.”

“No,” Al croaked out, disbelief flooding through him. “It can’t be.”

“He’s right, Al,” His other friend called out from behind him. Al shivered and turned around. “It’s too late, bro.”

Al shook his head, wanting to deny their words, but he couldn’t.

“It’s too late, Al,” The first of his companions reminded him. “You’re always late.”

“Too late.” The second echoed.

“You’re late.”

“Too late, Al.”

“Why don’t you ever care?”

All put his hands over his ears, tossing his from side to side as his twin companions continued their verbal assault. Soon enough, the voices blended together as one, their words gibberish, but echoing in the nearly empty street. Blood rushed to Al’s head and he felt himself choke when he couldn’t breathe properly. The world spun, and the sensation of no-air grew ever stronger. Their words echoed into storm: thundering all around them.

It was too much. It was all too much.

Al fell to his knees, tears forming in his eyes, and he bit down hard on his tongue: using the pain to ground him back to reality. Taking a deep, shaken breath, he slowly got back up and opened his eyes. He looked around slowly, but to Al’s shock, they were gone. And yet, the overbearing light remained.

“Late again, Al.” one of them whispered directly into his ear. “Late, late, late.”

Al whirled around. There was no one there.

“You don’t care,”

"Al!" The first voice had made its return and Al jumped in place, looking around wildly, but finding no one there. “Go! Go!”

“It’s too late, bro.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Why don’t yo care?”

“Al.”

“Late, bro,”

“Always late,”

“Al!”

“Late!”

“AL!!”

Ozymandias Alexander Vísosópoulos snapped forward, eyes opening wide as he awakened. Lying on his bed in his dorm room, the seventeen year old winced as the alarm on his phone went off: the holographic technology creating a projection of one of his fair-haired sisters shouting his name. And above that, he could hear the sounds of his neighbors in the room next to him shouting at each other over being late.

God above.

Al groaned, before reaching out to grab his phone and shut off the alarm. “Even in another country, I cant escape them,” He grumbled as the projection of his sister faded away. Throwing the covers off, and resisting to urge to wrap them back around his body, Al quickly got read for his day. Stripping off his sleep clothes and throwing on a completely new outfit, Al threw his messenger bag across his shoulders and quickly grabbed his tooth brush out the bathroom, putting on some toothpaste and hurriedly brushing his teeth even as he began a mad dash. He was going to be late to class, but first he had to find his roommate and get HIM to class too.

And after so long, Al knew there was only one place that his best friend would be. With a huff, he quickened his pace, a glower appearing on his handsome features as he stalked toward the gym where he knew Quincy liked to frequent.

The squeaking of shoes against the polished gym floor, the pounding noise of the rock, and the near-deafening music blasting through a pair of wireless earbuds that eradicated the sound of the other two:

This was Quincy’s happy place.

He’d woke up way early to get some shots in before school; Quincy hated school. Every morning, he dreaded going and sitting in class for...god knew how long. When he was attending the public school back home in Toronto, he’d always made a point to burn off some steam before hopping on the bus. Academics was a mental battle, and while Quincy didn’t mind brain games, he *hated* sitting still.

He just *loved* having ADHD.

Since he’d arrived, Quincy had been working on a simple jump shot from the block. The past thirty minutes had been spent switching sides and popping off shots. Repetition made muscle-memory, and muscle-memory made consistency. You got consistent, correct form, and you got a consistent shot. He’d made it his goal to shoot and make two-hundred shots a day; no exceptions. For today, he was already pretty close to that mark, or at least far enough in his book to take a break.

Dropping the ball down, he waltzed over to the bleachers adjacent to the court, bouncing his head as he vibed to his upbeat music. Stepping over the first row, he’d take a seat on the second. Quincy grabbed his book sack and threw it into his lap. After a few moments of digging, he found what he was looking for...

“*Gotcha* bitch.” He mumbled as he wrapped his hand around a cylindrical object. Once it was freed from its abysmal prison underneath his unwashed clothes from the day before, he held it as though it were a sacred treasure.

Barbecue-flavored Pringle’s; Quincy’s favorite.

Ripping the top off, he set it down next to him before grabbing a pair of chips from off the top of the stack. With a little flick of his wrist, they flew into his mouth. Quincy was *mad* chilling.

The boy pulled out his phone, possibly changing playlists as he continued to munch on chips. He figured Al would be there shortly; after all, he *did* get him every morning, after all. It went down this way all the time: Quincy woke up early to play, and Al slept in. When he got out of bed, he rushed over to the gym to pick up Quincy, then the two booked it to class and made it just in time.

It sounded quite irresponsible, but Quincy purposefully let Al sleep in while he shot around. His best friend coming to bring him to school was one of his favorite parts of the day. Watching Al walk through the door at nearly the same time every morning while Quincy sat in nearly the same spot; these were the kinds of things that would *never* change. No matter what happened, he knew his buddy was gonna come through that door.

And here he comes...

“Three...”

“Two...”

“One...”

And while he had no way of knowing it, Al burst through the doors right on time. Throwing them open, his head snapped around, dreadlocks whipping about, until he found his best friend.

“Q!”

Al huffed as he stalked toward his roommate, thankfully alone and not surrounded with the usual rabble that also made the gym their home. As he walked, the glower melted from his face and grudging affection set in as a small smile upturning his lips. By the time he’d made it to Quincy, Al’s dour mood was already half gone: he could never stay upset with his best friend for too long.

“You and this gym, man,” Al said as a greeting. Then, not knowing if Quincy actually heard him, he reached out to take one of his earphones out. “Come on, Pend boy. We’ve got less than a minute to get to class.”