Chapter 20

And so, they started cleaning.

Hunter wiped down the shelves while Sam swept the floor, kicking up even more dust. "Shit," Sam coughed, covering his nose. "When was the last time someone lived here? The Stone Age?"

Hunter snickered. "Probably."

They worked in silence for a while, the only sounds being the scraping of brushes and the occasional grunt of effort. Sam, always one to break the quiet, suddenly spoke up.

"You okay, though?"

Hunter paused, his hand tightening around the cloth he was using. "Yeah. Why?"

Sam shot him a look. "Come on, dude. You just got kicked out. You don't have to pretend everything's fine."

Hunter exhaled slowly. "I don't have a choice. I just have to deal with it."

Sam leaned on the mop. "Yeah, well, you don't have to deal with it alone."

Hunter glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. A small, rare smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks, man."

Sam grinned widely. "Don't mention it. Now hurry up and clean that window. I don't wanna die from dust inhalation before we even finish."

Hunter laughed softly and got back to work. Sam left after the cleaning was finished but for Hunter, the tiring night was still long and alive. He changed his clothes for his part time job. 

Hunter rubbed his tired eyes as he walked into the restaurant for his evening shift. The exhaustion from cleaning his new place still clung to his muscles, and the thought of standing for hours to serve customers made his body ache even more. But he had no choice, his bank balance was pitiful, and he needed money.

As he stepped inside, the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and an overly enthusiastic smile, called out to him.

"Hunter! Someone's waiting for you."

Hunter frowned. "Waiting for me?"

She nodded towards the small waiting area. Following her gaze, Hunter's stomach tensed when he saw Uncle Mark sitting there with a worried face. 

Hunter hesitated for a moment before walking over. "Uncle?"

Mark looked up immediately, his face flooding with relief. "Hunter! Where the hell have you been?" 

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. "I—uh—was arranging a place for myself."

Mark's brows furrowed. "A place for yourself? Are you insane? Why did you leave?! Do you know how worried I was? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Guilt pooled in Hunter's chest. He hadn't meant to make Mark worry, but he also couldn't stay in that house any longer.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Mark sighed, shaking his head. "Hunter, listen…I scolded Claire. She won't bother you again. You don't have to struggle like this. Just come back home."

Hunter's lips pressed into a thin line because he knew better. Claire was a manipulative woman, she wouldn't stop just because she got scolded. And now that he was out, he felt lighter, freer, even if it meant working himself to the bone.

"I appreciate it, Uncle. But I'm fine now. I've found a place. I can take care of myself."

Mark looked at him incredulously. "Take care of yourself? Hunter, you're barely an adult. You think you can just live on your own? What if something happens?"

Hunter offered a small, tired smile. "Then I'll deal with it. I was planning to move out in two months anyway. This just happened sooner than expected."

Mark exhaled heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. He could see the determination in Hunter's eyes. Stubborn, just like his mother.

"Fine," he finally said, though his tone was reluctant. "But if you ever get into trouble you come to me first. Understood?"

Hunter nodded. "Understood."

Mark stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "Damn kid…always making things difficult for yourself." He stood up and patted Hunter's shoulder. "Take care, alright?"

"I will."

Mark left with a heavy heart. Hunter watched him disappear through the doors before someone called his name from the kitchen.

"Hunter! We need you on the floor!"

With a deep breath, Hunter shook off his emotions and got to work. "Coming." 

The next few days blurred into a cycle of exhaustion. Hunter didn't go to school, not because he didn't want to, but because he needed money more than he needed lectures right now.

Aside from his shift at the restaurant, he took up small wage jobs wherever he could.

Carrying heavy boxes at the warehouse for barely minimum wage. Unloading delivery trucks at a grocery store in the early mornings. Sweeping floors and wiping down tables at a rundown café. The owner was kind, an old lady who gave him free meals sometimes, but the pay was barely enough.

Every night, by the time he got back to his tiny, dusty room behind the bar, his body screamed for rest. But he didn't let himself sleep just yet. Even though his limbs were sore and his head ached, he pulled out his textbooks and studied.

Exams were coming up and he couldn't afford to fail. So he sat under the dim light of his room, flipping through pages, memorizing formulas, reading through notes. His eyes stung with fatigue, his handwriting got messier with every passing hour, but he didn't stop.

Because if he lost control of his studies, if he let his grades slip, then everything would get worse.

◾◾◾

Aiden had been restless for days.

Ever since they returned from the trip, he had been avoiding Hunter, making an effort to keep his distance. But now, as he sat in class, staring at Hunter's empty desk, he felt unease. 

Hunter hadn't shown up for a whole week.

Aiden fidgeted with his pen in worry. Is he sick? Did something happen? That guy already eats like a bird so maybe he collapsed from hunger?

His knee bounced under the desk. He wanted to check on Hunter. But would that be weird? After what happened during the trip, after Sophia caught them and he panicked like an idiot, things had been…off.

He sighed, staring at the classroom door, wondering if he should just ditch and go look for him—

"Does anyone have Hunter's address?"

Aiden's head snapped up as the teacher spoke, looking around the classroom. Why is he asking for Hunter's address?

The teacher continued, "We've been trying to contact his home, but we were informed that Hunter doesn't live there anymore."

Aiden stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor, making the whole class flinch. "What do you mean Hunter doesn't live there anymore? Where is he then?!" 

The teacher frowned at Aiden's sudden outburst. "That's what his aunt said when we called. We don't know anything yet. We want a student to check on him before we send a faculty member."

But Aiden was already grabbing his bag.

"Aiden, we meant after school—" the teacher started, but Aiden was already running out of the classroom. 

"Aiden, the class is still going on. Where are you going?!" 

◾◾◾

Aiden stormed up to the porch, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't even hesitate before ringing the bell like a lunatic, pounding on the door with his other hand.

The door swung open violently, revealing Claire with the nastiest glare he'd ever seen.

"What the hell do you think you're—"

"Where. Is. Hunter?" Aiden snarled, stepping forward like a man ready to commit arson.

Claire crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "How should I know?"

Aiden felt his blood pressure skyrocket. "Tell me where he is—"

"Or else what?" she mocked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, wrong move.

Without hesitation, Aiden grabbed the nearest decorative vase and YEETED it across the hallway.

CRASH!

The porcelain shattered against the wooden staircase, sending shards flying. Claire jumped back and shrieked. "Are you out of your damn mind?!"

Aiden didn't even pay any attention to her words. Instead, he grabbed another vase. "You wanna see out of my mind? I'll show you out of my mind—"

SMASH!

Claire let out another shriek. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Aiden was breathing like a bull ready to charge.

"Wrong with me? Wrong with ME? Oh, I don't know, Claire, maybe it's the fact that you're built like a knock-off evil stepmother but without the brains? Maybe it's because you're about as useful as a screen door on a submarine? Maybe it's because you threw Hunter out like a damn stray dog when he was already living on crumbs, you absolute heartless, discount-store Cruella De Vil?!"

Claire tried to step forward and speak, but Aiden grabbed another vase and held it up to warn her.

"Say one more word, and this one's going straight for your ugly-ass chandelier."

"ALRIGHT, STOP!" Claire shouted, frightened for her life. She had never been so scared of anyone in her life. "I don't know where he is, okay?! He left! He packed his stuff and left! He didn't tell us anything!"

Aiden froze. His chest was heaving. His jaw clenched so tightly it could probably break. His fingers trembled around the vase, but after a moment, he let it drop to the floor with a loud thunk.

Claire was still panting, her face frozen in shock and extreme fear. 

Aiden pointed a furious finger at her which made her flinch and back away. 

"You low-budget, clearance-sale Voldemort. You absolute Walmart-brand Medusa. You're like if rotting mayonnaise was a person. The only reason anyone talks to you is because they legally have to. If I had a nickel for every ounce of decency in your shriveled-up raisin of a soul, I'd be bankrupt. You make dementors look like Disney princesses, and your voice alone has probably killed at least three plants in this house. The only reason your reflection doesn't run away from you is because even it has given up on life."

Claire stared at him speechless.

Aiden rolled his neck, shaking off his last bits of rage. "If I find out you're lying—"

"I'M NOT!" she shouted making herself clear because she feared he would launch at her again. 

"If I don't find him, I'm coming back with double the rage. And next time, I'm bringing hammers with me to redecorate your ugly ass house. Say goodbye to your kitchen cabinets, witch."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out. 

Claire standing in the middle of her destroyed entryway, her jaw hanging in pure horror as she fell with a thud on the floor.