"I don't think I can run away anymore, Al." The 17-year-old muttered, looking at the red-haired teen on the chair beside the bed Cain was on.
The Vergessene teen had been staying in his best friend's house for a month now. He managed to avoid whatever catastrophe happened to his family.
"What do you mean? You're laying on my bed right now as I do my homework which-" Alfred raised his voice and glared at Cain. "-you don't want to help me by letting me copy yours."
"Dude. This ain't homework that you can copy. You're supposed to write an opinion essay out of your brain." Cain, who was facing the ceiling, turned to his left, returning Alfred's stare.
"You know I'm dumb with these shits. The difference is you're born genius, Cain." The red-haired teen sighed, turning away from his best friend as he tried to continue his homework.
"You flatter me too much, bro," Cain commented, fiddling with a pen in his hand.
