When Donnie was following behind his childhood best friend on the abandoned train tracks, he didn't imagine that it would lead him over to the old junkyard. If this was anybody else who tried to take him somewhere without saying a single word, well, he would've just gone home, really.

But it's you, and he would've followed you straight to hell with the voices chastising him for it all the while. Some things are worth such a fate, he thinks. Some people are even worth much more than that.

So, he followed quietly with his hands shoved into his pockets, dark eyes flitting around while your arms remain outstretched at either side of you in order to help with your balance as you walked on the tracks. He's at the side, showing no sign of interest, yet is close enough to catch you if you were to fall.

Now he understands the intention. Or something to that effect when you mention something about destroying old crap that no one wants anymore, a baseball bat taken out of its hiding place in the backseat of a broken Ford.

"Where do you get these sorts of ideas, anyways?" Donnie asks, taking the bat with bated breath, mindlessly twirling it around instead of using it. At least for a few minutes. "Do I have to worry about some future criminal career?"

He smiles at the roll of your eyes, his arm winding back only to snap forward to smash a random car's side view mirror.