((Not a Harvest Moon story. It's just something I made up really fast, per Kitty's suggestion. If you want to read that, look at my thread entitled "Hurry! Be my muse!" I'm too tired to look it up for you. xD))
“I told you we should’ve just stayed home.” A blonde boy, staring out the fingerprint-smudged window, moved his lips so discreetly that it was hard to tell if had truly spoken. His arms were folded over his broad chest as he sulked from his seat, which had a large rip directly to the left of the eighteen-year-old’s leg.
Standing near him, another young man was gripping tightly the handrail of the bus with one tanned hand, and frowning down at a map in his other. “Be quiet, Christian,” he snapped irritably. “I’m trying to figure out where we’re supposed to go after this.”
”We’re never going to get off of this thing,” Christian muttered, pounding his fist lightly against the thin metal interior. “We’re going to go around on circles forever, and you know what? It might just be better that way.”
”You’re so negative,” the second boy scoffed. He never once took his eyes off of the red book in his hands, even when the coach jerked harshly.
“Well, Lucian, it wasn’t exactly my idea to be here.”
When the second boy turned to face him, any stranger sitting nearby with any vision at all would have been able to see that the boys were twins. Christian’s striking blue eyes met his brother’s identical ones, and he frowned. “This is a bad idea, Luc,” he warned.
The twin with the map in his hand groaned, like he had heard this many times before. “Just give it a chance,” he pleaded. “You might like Aldustin.”
The heavy bus heaved to a stop, and Christian looked up expectantly. His brother shook his head. “Not our stop.” The man who was sitting next to Chris arose and exited the cabin, freeing up a space for Luc. He quickly slid in, closing the red book and settling it on his lap as he turned to his brother.
“I don’t see why we had to leave Vinette,” Chris said. He could feel Luc’s stare, but he didn’t look up to meet it. “We had everything we needed there.”
”Yeah, everything,” Luc snorted. “Including a broken-down house, a slightly schizophrenic mother, and the hopes of going to ‘Wally’s School for the Giftid. Note the promising misspelling of ‘gifted.’” He paused. “It’s gonna be better for us, Chris. You can go to that art school, and I have that job with Markson and Co.”
“Mama needed us.” Chris’s eyes betrayed his guilt. “She can’t run that farm all by herself.”
“I took care of it,” Luc reminded him. “Three of the Bryant boys are going to come by every day and do what needs to be done. I’m paying ‘em to help her out a bit.” Chris didn’t reply; instead, he shook his head in defeat and leaned his forehead against the dirty window. His curved nose pressed against the glass, fogging it up as he exhaled.
Luc gave up at that point. He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out an old MP3 player, one that he had bought with his own money when he was fourteen. Money was tight back then, but, by doing chores for the neighbors and saving his allowance, Luc had conjured up enough to buy the then-stylish version. He was the only one at his grade school who had one, and he nearly overheated it simply by never giving the poor electronic device a break. He hummed along with a song as he reopened the map, and then tapped Chris’s shoulder with a slender finger.
“Look, see this line here?” He pointed to a thin red streak through a backdrop of greens and blues on the map, with an array of numbers splashed at what seemed to be haphazard places. “That’s the road we’re on now.” He followed the line with his finger until the road stopped at a small black dot, with the tiny text next to it reading ‘Aldustin.’ “That’s where we need to go.” He then whipped out another pile of papers from his bag, shuffling through them until he found a specific document. “Then we’ll catch a taxi and have it drive us to-“ he squinted at the address printed on the paper “-18833 Harlow Drive.” Underneath the address, a frontal image of a small, beige-colored Victorian-style house, with perfectly trimmed hedges and a driveway lined with rows of multicolored flowers.
“Tell me again how you managed to convince Mrs. Dawson to rent out her winter house to you,” Chris said. Luc just grinned.
”She’s a…spirited lady, that’s for sure,” he murmured. He changed the subject quickly and said, “But how we got it isn’t important. Mrs. Dawson said that the house needed a lot of work. We can stay in it for a trial year, as long as we do the major repairs that need to be done.” He shifted through the stack of papers again, and then held up a sheet with images of appliances, walls, and rooms in poor condition.
“Free manual labor.” Chris rolled his eyes as he slouched.
With a sad smile, Luc said, “Isn’t that kind of the story of our lives?”
or Luck? I wasn't sure but it was a cool story! I've got a kid in my class named Christian who fits the description you wrote!
