You know all those times you get bored in school? Well, this is the product of my boredom. And no, this won't affect the update speed of my other story. Depending on the feedback I get for this, I have a fairly high chance of continuing this XD
"Hey! You street rat! Get your grimy hands back over here!"
"Stop that kid!"
Two shop owners chased a scrawny runt of a child through streets and stalls, stopping only seconds to collectively decide which direction the boy had run in. They vigorously pursued the dirtied youth until he seemingly disappeared behind a snow covered stall. The two adults dashed around the corner, but no sign of the young bare-footed bandit could be found. The pair loudly cursed in frustration and begrudgingly returned to their own shop, feet dragging all the way. If they had stayed behind any longer, they would have undoubtedly noticed the dirty brown hair slowly rising out from under a card board box in the back of the alleyway.
The child poked his head over the box and hesitantly looked around him, eyeing every joyous person that walked past, laughing and buying presents for their loved ones. Graceful snowflakes fluttered down from the whisked gray clouds that loomed over them, promising harsher snow fall to come, but giving off the perfect atmosphere for the merry holiday season. Children ran past their parents, their warmly gloved hands excitedly grabbing and pointing at the new and fun festivities that lay in every vendors' stall. Lovers, friends, families, children, but no angry store workers.
The small boy let out a slightly shaken breath causing a small cloud of breath to become visible in the chilled December air, and sunk onto the cold, snow-covered ground of the gap between buildings that he'd taken refuge behind. Using a small, nearly frostbitten right hand, the young child reached into his dirtied and tattered coat and hungrily drew out the molded remnants of a once full loaf of bread. To the casual by-standard, it didn't look like much, in fact, it looked like absolute garbage, but to the boy, he had believed it to be a true Christmas miracle when he had spotted the bread in the bakers' trash bin. That is until he was caught and the owners chased him, attempting to gain back the soiled bits of sustenance.
He didn't get it. Why did those adults need the food when it was in the trash? They weren't going to eat it. Why couldn't they just give him a single piece? It wasn't fair… Other kids got things…
A twinge of pain in his other arm reminded him just why it would never be fair for him. Just why he could never quite be happy, or like any other normal child. He frowned as he looked down at his left arm. It had been shaking for a quite some time and he had really hoped it wasn't injured again; it was such a pain to fix. Not that he could afford treatment anyways…
The boy shoved the last crumbs of the expired bread past his chapped lips and shrugged his left arm out of the limp jacket that hung off his lithe frame. He had found it in another alley, not six days earlier, and he almost felt bad for whatever person left it there. Almost.
He slipped the jacket over his left arm and buttoned it over, hiding the damnable limb from any passer-by's judging view. The small brown-haired boy looked up and noticed that the snow had indeed begun to thicken and the passageway he had took temporary residence in had nothing overhead to shield his frail body from the frozen droplets that threatened him to hypothermia. The younger coughed, leaving him to grimace. Time to find shelter for the night.
When he stood up, he noticed that the snow underneath him had melted and soaked his thin pants through. Not. Good. At this rate, he'd get sick, which was practically a death sentence when you're a street rat.
The poor boy didn't know where he was going to sleep that night. Every night it changed, every night it was something different and new. Though he usually preferred to stick near places that provided cover and at least a minute amount of warmth, whether it be a box on the street, or a bench in front of a warm store, or sometimes even in a tall tree within a park. Unfortunately, the last time he had slept within the branches of a tree, he had fallen out when he rolled in his sleep, and ended up with a broken leg. He hardly survived that experience since he couldn't run to get food, or to borrow –pickpocket- money from oblivious people. Luckily it had been during the summer time and fruit could be found in a few of the many trees he had stayed by. Never again did he sleep in a tree after that though…
That was when he remembered that one particular building he had ran past earlier on his mad dash from the selfish bakers. There had been a distinctive white, wooden cross piercing the sky on top of the roof. That could only mean one thing: safe.
The rather uneducated boy couldn't quite name just what those strange buildings were, only that every time he had spotted the occasional cross-bearing building, it meant safe, warm, shelter. He hadn't entered one in a long time because of the fact that he had just wandered into to this foreign town, but he remembered well that soft and comforting atmosphere that engulfed him when he once entered one all those months ago.
A small smile uncharacteristically graced his shaking lips as he yearned to seek out that tranquil building. He took slow, shaky steps out onto the street and out of the alley he had hid in, grimacing as his bare feet stepped over icy pebbles and the occasional shard of jagged, broken glass bottles. He had long ago outgrown his old worn shoes and he was now thankful that his feet had already gone numb for the most part, for it dulled down the pain some.
When he stepped back out into the main street, his youthful gray eyes absorbed everything, and he sighed. Families walked past him, but instead of ignoring him as he had always silently prayed they would. They glared at him. Glared because he was a poor street rat, glared because he was a little boy with no money, glared because he was alone, and glared because he was a freak. A dirty, unwanted, cold, freak.
The shivering boy set out in a slow saunter, keeping a weather eye out in case he spotted a wooden cross sticking over anything, but it was proving to be quite difficult as he had always been awful with directions of any sort. The wind blew white icy flakes into his tired eyes and he raised his uncovered arm to shield his face from the wind that threatened to shove cold snow down his mouth and into his eyes.
The street and sky were now an interchangeable blur of gray and white, snow mixing every people, streets, and buildings in one giant cloud of dangerous white. By now, the crowds of merry shoppers had begun to quickly dissipate, seeking the warmth of their stone fireplaces in their cozy housed. None of them dared look at the lone boy on the pavement, standing nearly still with clothes hardly fit for winter weather, nobody to accompany him, and nowhere for him to go. The crowds left the child behind, leaving him with only the few vendors that stayed behind in the flurry of snow, trying to pack up early for the night.
Unable to see, and not knowing where to go even if he could, the lonely boy made one random turn down yet another road and that was when he saw it; the tall building with a large cross on top of the pointed roof. Forgetting about his unwanted arm, his cold feet, his loneliness, and his hunger, the tiny figure ran head first into the large front doors of the alien building, only bothering to stop once he was completely inside and had closed the heavy, ornate doors.
Once the warmth and stillness of the air hit him, only then did he realize just how bloody freezing he was. Without caring to fully examine his whereabouts, or even who was in there, the shivering boy ran into one of the long, white pews located near the very back but near the wall, slightly concealed by the shadows cast by the intricate lighting and huddled in a little boy, clinging to what minuscule amount of body heat he had managed to conserve.
Finally, once his teeth had stopped chattering, and almost the entirety of his right leg had gone numb, the boy peeked his eyes over the pew in front of him, allowing himself to fully enjoy the feeling of contentment. His cautious eyes picked up on every detail, still keeping an eye out in case Lady Fortune decided to abandon the boy and people would condemn him. Again.
The detailed ceiling was tall, and beautiful paintings decorated the surface, telling ancient stories and glorious battles. There were angel statues placed in the front of the room, some of them seemed to be at war, with their stone features frozen in an eternal battle cry. Scattered people sat randomly distributed out on the many other remaining benches, most of them had their heads bowed. What was that called again? Praying? The curious boy narrowed his eyes in slight confusion; why were all those people praying? What did it do? Wasn't it to God or something or other? The boy hardly believed in such forces as 'God', as he figured that nothing that could be labeled as 'fair and just' would ever allow only a small innocent kid like himself to go through life as he did. Just where was the justice in condemning a mere child? Of creating him as a deformed freak?
The boy gave in an indifferent huff; the atmosphere of the building was soothing, and the air was warm, but it seemed to be a place that ostensibly mocked him and his misfortune. He glared at his covered left arm, blaming it for all of his issues, which he had reason to, seeing as it practically was the cause for most of his pain.
Frustration boiled inside the small child. He had finally found a nice place, and yet it still reminded him of what he was; a bothersome freak that was hated by God himself. His right arm fisted and pulled at his filthy hair, as if it would make things better or maybe just take away his painful memories.
In the midst of his tantrum of sorts, he hadn't noticed someone walk up to his pew. When the boy continued to pull out his hairs, the stranger walked up to him and shook his shoulders, not even minding the filth or condition of his clothes. The street rat froze at the contact, avoiding the effort to make eye contact with whoever had touched him. He suddenly decided that he would believe in God and he prayed with all his might that he wouldn't get beaten too badly.
"Hey, kiddo. You alright there?"
So it was a kid… The high pitched voice could only be that of a child's and from the homeless boy's knowledge after observing families for years on the street, he could guess that the voice almost certainly belonged to a boy. Daring to look up, he noticed that it was in fact a boy, a boy with impossibly red, disheveled hair and surprisingly enough, a black eye patch over his right eye. But, even next to the red hair, and the fabric that concealed a supposed eye, the most shocking thing that even boggled the scrawny runt's mind, was the look of genuine concern that was etched over the redheads face. Why was he worried? Surely it wasn't for his sake. No one would care about him in a million years.
"Hey~! Short stuff! I asked if you were okay? You mute or somethin', cause that'd be totally awesome! Well, I guess it'd be kinda sad, cause… ya know, bein' mute an' all. But I mean, total sob story right?! An' everyone knows that girls always dig a good sob story! My friend told me that! That's why I got this eye patch on! Isn't it cool?! Chicks dig it! The old Panda says I'm 'too young' to start carin' 'bout girls and all, but I mean, he's a Panda, so what does he know?! An' I alw-" The boy's rant was cut short as a lady in a modest dress near the front had calmly shushed the raucous redhead child. The loud boy scratched the back of his head in visible modesty, and he chuckled.
"Heh… Oops, I guess the old Panda was right; I really do talk a little too much don' I?" A goofy grin was now plastered to his face. Said grin soon after slipped off his features when he noticed that the victim of his pointless, albeit excited speech, hadn't moved an inch, and he seemed to be shaking. This is just about when the redheaded boy noticed the conditions of the boy's clothes.
"No wonder you're freezin'! You're dressed like you haven't got any other clothes at home! Think I would've noticed sooner, since I'm a bookman-trainee an' all, but… Oh well! Your parent's know you're freezing your ass- sorry, butt, off out here? I mean, aren't they all worried 'n stuff?"
By now the scrawny brunette boy was glaring heavily at the opposing redhead. He was making fun of him, he just knew it.
When the brown haired boy lifted his head to glare, the redhead froze. His trained eye took in and memorized every flawless detail on the boy before him. Under the dirt-caked skin, peaks of pale complexion could be seen, as well as shaking rosy lips, and gorgeous silver eyes with specks of blue splashed near the pupil. All in all, the boy was breathtaking.
"Woah… You're adorable." The redhead breathed.
Adorable? He may not be educated, and he may be entirely socially inept, but he was pretty sure that being called 'adorable' when you were a male, was a serious threat to your masculinity. And even street rats had certain lines that couldn't be crossed. Pride was this boy's.
Still refusing to speak, the insulted boy scooted over to the where the redhead now sat, and raised his good arm, only to snap it down on the redhead's cheek. It hardly broke skin, and it was very weak under the poor conditions the boy had been living under. Try only eating one bit of moldy bread for four days, see how strong your punch would be.
Much to the angry boy's chagrin, the redhead didn't even seem remotely fazed by the uncalled for act of violence; instead he just grabbed the little boy's arm and pulled him into a hug. The small boy froze, terrified and confused, but the older boy didn't release him from the embrace. Eventually, he pulled back, his hands still keeping the boy from escaping, and he ruffled the knotted oily mess of brown hair.
"Hey, come on now. It's a good thing to be called adorable! Ya make tons of friends that way!" The poor boy was finally released from the elder's surprisingly strong grip and he then ran to the other side of the long pew, trying to get out of range from any other possible attacks from this strange eye-patched boy.
In the silence that had descended between the two boys, neither of them dared to move just yet. They had both remained fairly quiet, until a short, old man with an unkempt pony tail ran over to their pew, and jumped, aiming a kick straight for the happy child's unprotected head, effectively knocking said child over.
"Dang it, Panda! What did I do this time?!" He whined, rubbing the forming bump on the back of his head.
"You know what you did, junior! Stop ditching out on your studies! Someday you are going to have to do some field work and you are most certainly not prepared for it yet! Now get back to work!"
The brown haired street rat was now slowly raising to a stand, looking down at his redheaded acquaintance, his silver eyes going slightly wide from the display that had just occurred before him. As much as he hated to admit it, the other boy had begun to grow on him in the few minutes he had known him, and it did slightly bother him to see the boy kicked to the ground. The redhead returned the curious gaze, and smiled, jumping up and lightly clapping the scared boy on his shoulder.
"Panda's here so I gotta go now… But, ya know what? I like you! Let's be friends! The names Lavi! Nice to meet'cha!"
Review please :)