[OPEN] Ghosts of the past.

[skylar 'sky' mason ross]

Zain just watched Monroe quietly, then turned to walk down the street. Skylar sighed in agitation as he backed out. "You're the one who bitched an moaned and bragged all night," He called to Zain out the window. "And you're just leaving?"

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe groaned, was barely across the porch when he nearly fell on another toy. He bent down, picking it up and tossing it to the bin. He made his way slowly across the porch, picking up and tossing toys back into the toy bin at the end of the porch.

"Monroe! Clean off the swings while you're out there!" His dad called from the door, sitting a bucket of soap and water on the stoop.

"My fucking leg is broken!" Monroe groaned, and his dad just shrugged as if it weren't his problem. Monroe sighed, picking up the rest of the toys before he started nudging the bucket towards one of the swings. "I need a rag, dad.."

[skylar 'sky' mason ross]

Skylar reached out the window and shoved Zain. "Go help him," He insisted. Zain sneered but wandered off, and Skylar watched him take the bucket and grab a rag without a word, scrubbing the swings off.
He sighed, shaking his head. If Zain needed a ride he would call.
Pulling out of the driveway completely, he headed back towards the apartments.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe grabbed another rag instead of fighting with him, and dipped it in the bucket. He made his way across the other side of the porch, sitting down at the bottom of the swing. He started to wipe it off, looking up to see Dash sitting in the window.

"Jack left?" She asked.

"Yeah. His dad came and got him." Monroe mumbled.

"I'm going to bed, bubba. Night night." She looked over at Zain, then climbed out of the window.

"Night, Rainbow Dash." He said quietly, waiting for the seat of the swing to dry before he leaned up on it to wash the back and the arms.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain worked slowly, a headache forming. He ignored it though and rubbed at his bruised wrist, muttering curses under his breath as he worked. Faintly dilated eyes glanced over at Monroe for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed and he returned to what he was doing.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe finished washing off the swing, and dropped the rag to the porch. He slowly scooted to the edge of the porch, pulling his crutches with him as he leaned against the railing. The fact that his piercing was missing, he had on no shirt, his hair framed his face in damp strands, and he had on dirty sweat pants indicated he had been working hard for some time now. And the nearly spotless porch proved just that. The only thing he hadn't gotten to was washing off the flower pots, and it was too dark to do that now.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain glanced at him again and sighed. He dropped onto the porch, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, brooding angrily. "Just fucking dumps me off," He mumbled. "Damn shitface deserved to be fucking beaten." He shifted his weight, rubbing at his face.

[monroe owen hughes]

"Yeah, well.." Monroe mumbled, slowly pulling himself up with the help of his crutches. He picked up the rag, hanging it over the railing of the porch. "I'm going to go take a bath. I'm filthy. You can come in if you want. Just be quiet. Dash is in bed, and I'm sure my parents are headed to bed sometime soon." He said, opening the door slowly. He climbed up the stoop carefully, then started inside. He made his way to the stairs, looking up at the task before him. But his dad said he couldn't keep his stuff downstairs anymore.

"Okay.." He breathed, slowly making his way up the stairs.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain got up, watching him go. It was hard to get him out of a bad mood. Even harder after drugs had resurfaced bad memories or he didn't get revenge for something he wanted to. He didn't bother greet anybody, just dropped onto the sofa in silence.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe took a bath as carefully as he could, then made his way to his room in his towel. He got dressed, draping the towel over his shoulders as he carefully made his way down the stairs, more exhausted than anything. He took a seat in a chair close to the door in the living room, propping his crutches up on the arm. He saw his dad sitting at his desk, reading over a book.

"Dad, can I have a drink?" He asked.

"Go get it." He told him and Monroe sighed, too tired to argue. He pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the pain under his arms from his crutches. He made his way to the kitchen, Captain trailing after him. He grabbed a soda bottle, putting it in his mouth. He waited for Captain, then picked him up, putting him in his pocket as he made his way back, sitting down in the chair. He put the dog in his lap, unscrewing the cap on his bottle.