Rust and Signal Flares

"Don't breathe," Konnor mouthed, the words barely a puff of air. He didn't need to. Jae had been holding his breath so long his lungs felt like they were about to collapse. The flashlight beam swept past their hiding spot again, this time illuminating a spiderweb cracked across the grimy window. Jae watched, mesmerised, as the light caught the individual strands. He could smell the acrid bite of spray paint from his own hands, mixed with the damp, earthy smell of the rotting wood they were pressed against. Beside him, Konnor was unnaturally still, a statue carved from shadows.

The guard's heavy footsteps crunched on the ballast outside, moving away. A long, agonizing minute passed. Then another. Finally, a distant shout, and the sound of a vehicle starting up. They were gone.

Konnor let out his breath in a slow, controlled hiss. Jae just sagged, the adrenaline leaving him feeling hollowed out. "That was close," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"You're loud," Konnor stated, not as an accusation, but as a simple fact. He shifted, pulling a small sketchbook from the inside of his jacket. "Your can work is loud. Your movements are loud. You walk like you want to be found."

Jae bristled. He'd been about to thank the other boy for the silent warning before they'd both bolted. Now, he just felt defensive. "My stuff gets seen. Isn't that the point?" He gestured vaguely towards the half-finished piece he'd been working on—a big, aggressive throw-up in chrome and red. "It's not some... drawing in a book."

Konnor flipped open the sketchbook. Even in the gloom, Jae could see the pages were filled with intricate designs, character sketches, and complex lettering that made his own work look childish. He was looking at the blueprint for the massive, multi-coloured mural Konnor's crew, the 'North End Wraiths', had put up on the old mill last month. A piece everyone was talking about. A piece Jae had secretly admired and publicly hated.

"This is the point," Konnor said quietly, tapping a page. "The thought. The plan. What you do is just... shouting. This is speaking."

They sat in silence, surrounded by the ghosts of the railway. The air in the carriage was thick with the smell of decay and creosote. Jae looked from the incredible detail in the sketchbook to Konnor's hands. They were stained with ink and paint, but the fingers were long and steady. Artist's hands. He looked at his own, smudged with chrome, and felt a sudden, sharp pang of inadequacy.

"Why here?" Jae asked, changing the subject. "This is our yard. Everyone knows that."

"It's no one's yard," Konnor countered, not looking up from his book. "It's a graveyard. Besides, the light is good on the west-facing cars at this time of day. It catches the metallic paints."

Of course he thought about the light. Jae only ever thought about visibility from the commuter train tracks. The conversation died again. The tension between them had changed. It wasn't just the rivalry of their crews anymore; it was something else. A strange awareness of each other, sharpened by the shared danger. Jae was acutely conscious of how close they were, the warmth of Konnor's leg pressed against his in the cramped space.

Colours in the Dark

They waited another thirty minutes, just to be safe. Twilight bled into true night, and the cavernous space of the train yard became a landscape of abstract shapes and deep shadows. The moon, a thin sliver, offered little light.

"We should go," Jae said, his voice feeling too loud in the sudden quiet.

"Not yet," Konnor murmured. He'd pulled out a small book light, the kind for reading in bed, and clipped it to his sketchbook. He was drawing, his pencil making soft, scratching sounds. "They might circle back."

Jae suspected it was an excuse, but he didn't argue. He was reluctant to leave the strange sanctuary of the train car. Out there, they were enemies again. In here, they were just… two people.

He found himself watching Konnor draw. He was sketching one of the broken seats opposite them, capturing the way the moonlight fell on the torn vinyl with a series of quick, precise lines. He wasn't just looking at the seat; he was understanding it.

"Can I see?" Jae asked, the words out before he could stop them.

Konnor hesitated for a second, then angled the book towards him. The drawing was simple but perfect. It had weight. It had texture. Jae felt that same pang again, but this time it was mixed with a grudging admiration.

"It's good," he admitted.

"It's practice," Konnor corrected him, but he seemed pleased. He flipped a few pages. "This is the one I was planning for tonight." The design was a huge, stylized raven, its wings made of intertwined gears and clockwork. It was beautiful and complex.

"You wouldn't have had time to finish that before morning," Jae pointed out.

"I know. I wasn't going to do the whole thing. Just the outline. Get the feel of the wall." He looked up from the book, his eyes catching the small, dim light. They were a pale, startling grey. "You have to respect the surface."

Jae had never thought about respecting a wall. Walls were for conquering. For claiming. He thought of his own tag, a frantic, spiky signature he sprayed everywhere. It was a shout, just like Konnor said. *I was here. I exist.* He'd never considered trying to say anything more.

"You want to..." Jae started, then stopped. The idea was insane. A betrayal. But he said it anyway. "You want to finish mine? My throw-up? Just the fill. We've got time."

Konnor stared at him. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant hum of the city. Jae was sure he was going to laugh, or tell him to get lost. But instead, he slowly closed his sketchbook.

"What colours you got?" Konnor asked.

The surprise of it made Jae grin. "Got a blue. A real deep one. And a black for the border." He rummaged in his bag, his cans clinking softly. He passed the blue to Konnor. Their fingers brushed. It felt like a static shock.

Konnor took the can, weighed it in his hand. "Okay," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Let's not be loud."

Stepping out of the train car felt like stepping onto a different planet. The yard was quiet, bathed in soft moonlight. They worked in near silence, a strange, collaborative rhythm falling into place. Jae watched as Konnor filled the letters of his tag, his movements smooth and efficient, the can control immaculate. He wasn't just filling; he was adding depth, a subtle gradient that made the letters seem to pop off the rusty metal. He was making Jae's shout into something more. He was making it speak.