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"With what...?" Tsurai said softly, letting it hang in the air.

He was almost positive that he wasn't going to get an answer.

He fell asleep rather quickly, although it was probably more of a passing out type of thing.

And when the sun came up, he had Isiah's jacket over himself like a blanket, and was waken up by the horrendous light. Tsurai covered his head with the jacket, a small groan escaping from him.
It felt like he had a hangover. And his face felt weird.

Underneath the jacket, he halfmindedly ribbed his hands over his face and felt it...

Pimples.

Even though Tsurai was sick, felt like s**t, probably still had a fever, and was sweating from the heat, to boot, he shot up and went over to Isiah's sleeping form.
Grasping the heavy man's shoulder's, he violently shook the Irishman, yelling "I told you I told you I told you!! LOOK AT THIS! I'm not 15, you a*****e! LOOK AT ME!"

Tsurai may have been as straight as an arrow, but he still had dignity. And being called a pimpleface was not something Tsurai was going to look forward to.

[[Ee gads! You're ALIVE!]]

Tsurai glared at the man as he laughed.
Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore, and just punched Isiah in the face from where he was sitting.

"a*****e," he muttered.

Chicken pox?

How fun. Not one day was he ever sick and then all the sudden. BAM. Chicken pox.

"This is why you don't shove people in their own puke!" Tsurai ******** twit," he muttered under his breath.

[[Try QuikTrip. Weekly paycheck at 8.50 USD an hour for part time. ]]

[[lucky fool. (about the 9/hr waitressing)]]

Tsurai groaned, plopping himself on his butt across from Isiah.
He didn't want to be carried, he had some dignity. But he didn't want to exert himself, either.

However, he had his pride, and, after some thought, with another groan he forced himself up and started walking.
He was sweating a lot, and Tsurai was really thirsty (As sweating will dehydrate, and all).

Tsurai was embarrassed. He wanted to see his face, and yet he didn't. He'd never been sick before, he was afraid of what he looked like, but then, he wanted to know, just to pulverize Isiah for it.

And while the boy's mind was wandering, he managed to think about what Isiah said:
A little practice, and you might make a decent scrapper, one day.

Bah. He was trying to decide if he should be insulted or flattered.
And being felt flattered seemed totally wrong, considering Isiah was gay, so Tsurai settled on being insulted.

And that was about the time everything started getting blurry.
Then he got dizzy.

Tsurai immediately stopped walking, trying to blink off the blurriness. Everything was not spinning.
But. It felt like it.
Tsurai began to unknowingly sway and afterward, promptly fell on his back, muttering a "Make it stop, make it stop..."

Tsurai got dizzy easily, and now he was both scared and sick to his stomach.

[[If you're waiting for me to come up with a town or something, I've got nothing.]]

Tsurai coughed when he was picked up, and held on to Isiah's shirt for about ten minutes, shaking, as Tsurai still felt like he was going to spin out of control.

But it seemed like after the ten minutes, the spinning subsided and the eighteen year old weezed, hoarsely whispering, "Tsu-rai, I can't... Breathe.."

He would've normally began to kick free after that, but the kid was too tired, lazy, and ill to begin even trying.

Tsurai didn't answer, and curled into as much a ball as he could in Isiah's arms as he went over the hill, and back down again.

When the eighteen year old was put down in the shade, he opened an eye, and for a moment, thought he was drunk, as he couldn't focus.
But then a canteen got thrown at him. Tsurai let it fall in his lap with a sigh.

Begrudgingly, he picked the canteen up and handed it back to Isiah, saying, "You need it more than I do."

And with that, the kid looked around wearily, then squinted.
Then shook for a moment.

Then finally lost it.

Dropping the canteen, he clamped his hands to his face and started scratching it as fast as possible.

"THIS ITCHING IS GONNA ******** KILL ME!" he yelled out.

He was tired of holding it in.

Tsurai kept scratching himself. He felt like he had fleas.. Only.. A bajillion times worse.

And fleas were already pretty bad.
The more he scratched, the more it itched, and that's why Tsurai hadn't itched untl this point, and now that he had given in, it'd be harder to stop again...

Gah, it was just like drugs!

Regardless, after the night, and the carrying, Tsurai seemed okay mentally, as it was now just the itching that was bothering him. If he had a fever, he didn't mind it, and he wasn't really dizzy anymore.

"Oh, shove it!" he proclaimed to Isiah.
"You need that water. YOU are getting heatsroke. I can tell.. Through all this..."

Tsurai growled and sat on his hands, flinching every now and then as he glared at Isiah.

".. itching..." He hissed.

"You drink the damned water. I can wait. I'd probably just throw it back up, anyway." His left brow twitched.

"And if I weren't..!" Tsurai lifted up his fist, hand red. "If I didn't itch so much, I'd ********' punch you senseless for laughing at me...!"

Moment of pause.

"Argh....!"

He went back to frantically scratching himself.

Tsurai frowned, groaning, "That'd probably just make it worse."

Tsurai sat on his hands again, rolling his head on his neck for it to crack as he winced at the lack of scratching himself.

Tsurai's back had next to no feeling in it, so he wondered if there were even any pox on his back. He tried to concentrate-as that's what he usually did to see if anything was on his back, but he couldn't even feel the brick wall because of the itching.

Finally, with a groan and a shake, Tsurai turned his back to Isiah and said, "Are there any on my back anyway?"

From all the sun the kid was getting, he had begun getting a tan, and his native American roots were coming through. That wasn't why his back was mostly unfeeling, however.
With his tan, the scars on his back became more noticeable.
There were obvious stab wounds all over it, but then there were also huge gashes from burns that seemed to connect the stab wounds together, like a sick game of connect-the-dots.
They were horribly white, and even shiny now with the sweat from Tsurai.
The back would feel weird to someone touching it since the stab wounds would be deep in the skin, while the burn wounds protruded outward.

It was almost a shock as to how anyone could do this to someone else, since before, because Tsurai was so pale, the scars were so hard to see that most people missed it unless they inspected closely.

"I can't feel any." He hmphed. "But then again I can't feel anything back there, so are there any?"

And indeed there were none; the skin tissue was too scarred to grow anything new.

Tsurai sighed and leaned back against the building again, sitting on his hands.

"Fine, go to sleep, then." He looked up at the sky, back of his head against the brick.

"But I can't. Too much itching. I'm sure I'll black out later, anyway."

Tsurai took out a hand and rubbed from his collarbone to his abs.
He was forcing himself to be slow with it; maybe it would go away.

He continued that for ten minutes, his body shaking more and more for trying to ignore the itching. Looking back to Isiah, who was now asleep, Tsurai let out both his hands and scratched frantically at his chest again, peeling off dead skin.

He felt like a really scrawny, dirty dog.

After five minutes of scratching, he looked over to Isiah again- he was still asleep.

Tsurai got up and took the water canteen. He took a few swallows, put it back, then hid the duffelbag under a pile of loose tarp a few feet from Isiah.

The eighteen year old got walked down the "road", looking for dirt he could roll in, but found something better: A well.

Tsurai's right hand instinctively went to his dog tags, and pulled on them at his neck, scratching the back of it with the chain.

He then put both hands on the well and looked down in it, blinking.

Tsurai seemed to stare into space for a moment, or maybe a long moment, before someone tapped him on the shoulder and he swiftly turned around, fist in the air.
"Who's there?!" he called, before he noticed a dirty blonde man with a surprised look on his face.
The stranger lifted up both hands apologetically.

"Sorry there," he said. "Don't hurt me." A small chuckle escaped him, and he motioned to the well.
"There's no water in there, it's dry. Just wanted to let you know... Which.. What happened to you...?"

Tsurai growled and turned back to the well, putting down the bucket, only for it to clatter at the stone bottom. He groaned.

"Chicken pox," Tsurai said, moping. "And I was looking for mud."

"To stop the itching?" The stranger questioned.

"Yeah."

"I've got something better you can use. It's a lotion. Come with me," the blonde-haired man said, turning to walk off.

Tsurai pushed himself up and followed the other man, fists clenched while various parts of him flinched from trying not to scratch.

Five minutes later, Tsurai and the blonde-haired man were in a half of a house, Tsurai in a chair.

The stranger was hunting through a cabinet somewhere, and finally pulled out a clear glass bottle, corked, with some thick orange-colored stuff in it.
Tsurai guessed the man was right, and it was lotion.

Setting the bottle on the table, the blond-haired man sat opposite of Tsurai.

"My name is Simon," he stated. "What's your's?"

Tsurai blinked a few times, looking around suspiciously. Even so, the past was behind him, and Tsurai did trust this man...

"Tsurai," the eighteen year old finally stated, taking the glass and uncorking it with a "pop".

Just as he tipped the bottle over to put some lotion on his hand, Simon got up, walking to him.
"Need help?" He said, dragging his chair and twisting it to sit next to Tsurai.

Even more suspicious now, but not truley caring, Tsurai handed Simon the bottle, who in turn took it on his hand and held the hand up.

"May I?" He suggested.

Tsurai shrugged. What could it hurt, he figured. "Sure."

Simon leaned over and slopped the lukewarm lotion on his side, down his arm. It did work, and smelled pretty nice too, so Tsurai began to relax a bit.

It was ten minutes, and Tsurai had basically let Simon touch all over him, that was, until Simon got to his thighs, and his too-low pants. And touched something that he wasn't supposed to.

Tsurai stood up with a start, "What was that for?!"

"It was an accident. I'm sorry. Won't happen again, I promise." Simon meekly smiled.

Tsurai glared down at Simon for a moment, who was still sitting.
"Listen. Thanks for the lotion, but, I've gotta go. I have a friend waiting."

Simon gave a look of disapproval, but only replied, "Will you come back later? Can I meet your friend? Tsurai?"

Tsurai walked out, "Yeah, sure," he said absentmindedly, "And thanks again."

He made his way back to Isiah, covered in orange.. Lotion, which actually DID work, surprisingly, and stood over Isiah for a few minutes, pondering on whether to sit or not.

And whether, if what just happened, had really, purposely happened, or really was an accident. Tsurai instinctively pulled his pants up at the thought of either.

He needed a belt.