The Storms After [17+]

'So this is what I've come to,'

Yasanna thought bitterly to himself, looking down at his old over worn sneakers. They were soiled with dirt, the soles slowly peeling off and barely hanging on at the sides. Nevermind that, he thought. He would deal with it later, when he got home... Providing he could find some glue.

"I don't have all day!" A voice said and his head snapped up. He looked at the woman through his right eye that was not hidden by sleek black locks.

"Um...I'm sorry, I would like you to make something for me," He said softly.

"What do you want me to make?"

"A tutu."

"How am I supposed to make a tutu for a girl when she ain't here?"

"It's for me," He deadpanned.

"Is that so?" She put her hands on her plump midsection, the measuring tape hanging off one shoulder, "You got money?"

Yasanna's hands dug into his pocket, fumbling a bit before pulling out crumpled bills mixed with lint.

"This isn't enough," She said after counting it, shaking off the clutter with a slight look of disgust.

"I can get the rest to you tomorrow. Please," He held her stare until she caved.

"Fine," She said begrudgingly, "come let me take your measurements."

He dropped his bag and walked towards her. "Chin up...where is your waist... ahhh... 25 eh? pretty small for a guy, but then- you're a twink."

"I'm not a twink," He retorted, grimacing as she poked him here and there. She paused, as if something dawned on her.

"Where are you going to get the money to pay me?"

"I have a job."

"Not looking like that you don't."

"I start tomorrow."

"Hmm. I see what this is now. Oh well, gotta do what you gotta do."

Yasanna shrugged, turning to leave and halting when she called After him. He shifted his head slightly, but didn't turn around.

"Wait... I think you may need a few things to go with that order, how about you come by tomorrow to check it out?"

"Thank you," He said quietly and skunked away into the cold cover of the night.

The stench of stale beer and puke greeted Yasanna as he entered the apartment discreetly closed the door behind him.

"Where have you been?" A gruff voice rang out. His father didn't even have the courtesy to look at him. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the television, stuffing chips into his mouth and dispensing the crumbs onto his chest and the old torn surface of the couch.

"I was out." He replied curtly and made to climb the stairs to his room.

"Out where, boy?"

"Looking for a job. I start tomorrow. Can I go now?" Yasanna's response was a little too harsh and he instantly regretted it. His father shot up from his seat and stalked towards him. He grabbed his hair and pulled his head back painfully.

"If you think that because you have a job that suddenly makes you a man, think again. This is my house and you live under my roof."

Yasanna clenched his jaw hard, trying to go up on his toes so that his father didn't rip out his hair. It was a feat when he also had to stomach the stench of his breath, blowing heavy and putrid into his nostrils.

"Don't pass your place with me boy."

"Yes sir."

His hand tightened in Yasanna's hair causing him to gasp in pain, "Is that how you address me boy? Would you like me to remind you?"

"No," He said urgently. If his father hit him, there was no way was he going to be able to work tomorrow.

"We must never make that mistake again- am I clear?"

"Yes Daddy," He whispered.

"That's better. Now go upstairs and order some dinner."

As soon as he was released, Yasanna bolted up the stairs. He ran into his room and locked it behind him before sinking to his knees with his hands in his hair. His fingers trembled as they sought to soothe his scalp.

"It's going to end... Just be patient.... it's all going to end. " He consoled himself,

"I swear it."…