'I should have known,' Laz thought to himself.

He didn't say anything, but reached over and grabbed them. It came as a slight shock that the box was somewhat new. He had a brief moment of horror thinking that the old men were giving him a half used box from their past, but luckily this didn't come to be.

"Actually boy, Your grandpa and I have been waiting for you to finally find a girlfriend. We aren't young anymore, so our time is limited. As such, we've been waiting for you to finally come into your own. Afterall, we've left you big shoes to fill, so to speak," Bill said with a mischievous grin.

Laz didn't want to know what he meant. Instead, he got on the Harley and took off, waving as he left.

"It's getting closer, isn't it?" Bill asked, while looking at the disappearing back of the young man he thought of as his own grandson.

"You already know it is. It's just a matter of time. You know, in a way, I kind of envy you and our bro Chu."

"I know. I'm tormented by the past while bro Chu sees the present. But you? Your constantly being burned by seeing things in the future. You have it the worst of all," Bill replied, somewhat stoically.

"We all have our crosses to bare. It's not like that little guy knowing anything will change anything. I don't want to scare him anymore than he already is. He has so little time left to be a kid, I just want to see him smile a few more times until the end. I guess that's just a greedy part of being old. You don't care much about your own life anymore, but you get greedy when it comes to the youngsters," Grandpa Crowe commented while sitting back down.

"He is tougher than we all give him credit for. His generation never had a great war. They have only ever been protected by those older than them. The world hasn't burnt in a long time. But now, there is no way to avoid it," Bill said, while also sitting.

"He will survive. Hopefully, my idiot son will be there for him when he needs it."

"Have you already gotten in touch with him?"

"Yes. He can't come back right now since he is still needed. And the advice of this old man just goes in one ear and out the other. But then again, two years ago, when all this started, he didn't listen to me then either." Grandpa Crowe sighed, thinking about the past.

"He did what he had to do, along with your wonderful daughter in law. Don't beat yourself up over it. We know what happens when the ones who can do something choose not to. You raised a good kid who wasn't going to back down. Don't start questioning him or yourself now," Bill said, comforting his brother like friend.

"Just because it's the right thing doesn't make it the best thing. That boy needed more than I could give him. We just got lucky. Really lucky."

Neither one said anything else and instead just sat there for a bit while watching the moon rise, lost in thought.

Laz got home quickly and sent a brief text to Kennedy to let her know he had the ride situation figured out. He also warned her to make sure she wore something warm. Although it had been somewhat mild to warm so far, winter had a way of sneaking in quickly to freeze everything.

Since he didn't really have anything to do, Laz just went to his closet while looking for something to wear. He had been through here only a bit so he really had no idea what kind of clothes his dad had left there.

After a while of searhing, Laz was dumbstruck. Leather pants, feathered jackets and snakeskin boots were some of the more normal things he found.

"Was he a pimp or something?" Laz asked himself out loud. This was not the wardrobe of a normal person, not by a long shot.

" Let's see, silk suits, several leather jackets, different types of boots, hold up... are those leather chaps?" Laz couldn't help but shutter.

He finally decided on a loose, low length leather jacket, a b.u.t.ton up, blue silk s.h.i.+rt along with some low key, but cla.s.sy style silk pants and the snake skin boots. Honestly, these weren't a good choice, but it's not like Laz had ever had a chance to wear boots like this before.

Thinking about it for a minute, Laz pulled out his phone and took a picture before sending it to Kennedy.

'Hmm? What's this?' Laz pulled out a old looking stereo on a cart. Looking it over, it definitely looked like something that was popular many years ago.

'Is that a record player?' Laz couldn't help but look at the cla.s.sic style turntable and he noticed a record was still on it.

'Oh? Johnny Cash huh? My dad always was a fan.' Laz thought as he plugged it in. Laz liked more metal and less what he considered to be cla.s.sic. But since it was something his dad had listened to, he didn't think much of it and wanted to listen to it as well. He didn't check the thing like the date or what not, since he didn't pay much attention to 'cla.s.sics.' As far as he knew, once something was cla.s.sic, it was just old. End of story.

Moving the needle into position, Laz turned the old machine on and sat back, wondering what the last thing his dad had listened to.

Listening to a somewhat mellow guitar strum, Laz almost immediately felt lost in the music.

"I hurt myself today to see if I still feel, I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real.

The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away but I remember everything.

What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down, I will make you hurt."

Laz was entranced. He couldn't help himself. As the gut wrenching lyrics. .h.i.t him along with the soothing and yet haunting melody of the guitar, his eyes started to water.

"I wear this crown of thorns, upon my liars chair. Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair.

Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear. You are someone else, I am still right here.

What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down, I will make you hurt.

If I could start again, a million miles away, I will keep myself, I would find a way."

As Laz sat there, he looked nothing like the demon who had beaten up three gangsters just a few days ago or the young man who had already killed someone. He was nothing more than a curled up ball of tears. He couldn't escape the thought that this was the last song his dad had listened to the last time he had been here. The song wasn't new and neither was the record, but it was newer than the rest of the stuff in the closet.

The only way he would have been able to listen to it would have been if it had been played back when he and Laz's mom had dropped him off two years ago.

'This was his last message to me. Why?"

The answer for that question wouldn't be coming any time soon.