The sky was a canvas of brilliant blues and off whites, fluffy clouds dangling on invisible threads, moving along with the breeze.
He pushed past the crowd, his worn out pair of Converse dragging along on the clean pavement, snow white hair ruffled and messy after uncountable times running his hands through them in frustration.
Fuck….
Fuck it! Damn it!
"Sir?"
He whipped his head around at the gentle sound, meeting a young lady's gaze.
No, no, no, no….. All his problems came washing back over him like a huge wave at the sight of a young lady, the weight of them barely bearable on his shoulders.
"Sir?" She looked at him in concern, her grip on the stack of flyers tightening just a little bit.
He stopped and turned around. He raised an eyebrow, a scowl on his face.
"Would you care to donate some money to help raise funds for Autism? We are currently-"
"Fuck off." He turned away and began to walk.
"Excuse me, sir-" She started talking again after pausing for a moment.
"I said," He took a deep breath and turned towards her. "Fuck. Off."
She pressed her lips together in a thin line as he stormed away.
Jack fell on to the sofa, television remote in hand, the other hand somewhere inside his hair, pushing them back and forth, back and forth, in an attempt to calm his nerves.
His life has never been happy or easy, but now it was just plain unbearable. Everything he's known is now crashing down, leaving him all alone with no support, in the middle of a pile of shattered dreams he once called his life.
Cans of cheap alcohol were piled on an old coffee table, stubborn stains scarring it forever.
Just like how he felt now.
Disgusted.
He didn't know how long the doorbell had been ringing, because with the TV blaring and his half-drunken state, it could've been anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours.
He half walked, half dragged himself to the door, leaning on the doorknob before giving it a pull.
The blonde from this morning stood there, in her ponytail and work clothes. A faint trace of makeup on her face, barely noticeable.
He rolled his eyes. "I told you-"
"I know." She smiled. "I know. I just came to give you this." She handed him a small plastic card.
His Identity card.
"Yeah, you dropped it back there, and I'm not a stalker by the way. Your address is here, so I…yeah." She slipped her fingers inside the pockets of her pants.
"Er…yeah. Thanks."
The silence hung over them awkwardly, but she just stood there, like she didn't plan on leaving anytime soon.
Perhaps it was his drunken state, or maybe it was because he was too desperate for human company that he agreed when she asked for permission to enter his house.
"So, you live here?" She planted herself carefully on the sofa, not seeming to mind the dirty surroundings of what he would call a house, but in actual fact was a large shack.
"No, this is just my private wine cellar."
He heard her laugh for the first time, a peculiar sound he hasn't heard for ages now.
They talked for an hour or so, then she left.
After that particular meeting, she came back every Tuesday or Thursday, sometimes staying for three hours, sometimes just for fifteen minutes. It became a sort of drug for him, a few moments where he could forget about his own life and problems, an just be…normal.
Just be normal again.
"So, what's your hobby?" Elsa suddenly asked one day, while she was sitting on the sofa, amongst cans of cheap beer on the stained coffee table.
"My hobby?" He sat up straight and smirked. "Well, it's embarrassing." He ran his fingers through his hair.
She grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. "I'm sure it's not that embarrassing."
He let out a light chuckle. "I always wanted to pursue singing as a career."
She laughed. He looked at her in amusement. "What?"
"It's not embarrassing at all." She smoothed down her hair. "I'm a singer myself." The pride in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Are you sure? You probably couldn't hold a note for three seconds by the looks of it." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You little…"
"I was just joking. You are by far, the best singer in the history of the best singers in the hist-"
"Shut up, Jack. What about you? You're not a singer, are you? At least I got my dream." She looked at him challengingly.
"Cut me some slack, I'm-" He paused, the lump in his throat was swelling, threatening to choke him. His past haunted him every day, but it didn't make it any less painful. All the colour drained from his face.
"Jack?" Her voice was softer now, gentle. As if she was approaching a wounded animal.
He was a wounded animal. Small, weak and helpless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable.
"Nothing!" He sucked in a breath, not wanting to lose his cool in front of Elsa like he did that morning. "Nothing, really."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" He tugged at his hair. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. You can leave now if you want."
"I don't want to leave." She took a deep breath, and sat there, not moving an inch.
"Leave now. Please."
He sat there crouched on his knees, face hidden behind his hands. After a couple of minutes, she left without a sound.
Perhaps it was his drunken state, or maybe it was because he was too desperate for human company that he dialed her number in the middle of the night.
It was probably three or four in the morning, but she still picked up.
"Hello?"
"Elsa?"
She paused for a while.
"Yeah? Jack?"
"Could you come over?"
She was at his doorstep in ten minutes. She was in a simple T-shirt and shorts, her hair loose with no makeup on.
She was still so beautiful.
He was at his usual spot on the sofa, hands running through his hair. He couldn't hold it all in for much longer.
"Elsa," He croaked and the tears started to fall, all running loose like a broken dam.
He told her all about his father, Nick, who was trafficking young, unsuspecting girls from all around the world from different countries for his prostitution business. His mother was a victim. She thought Nick was different, that Nick actually loved her, only after did she get pregnant with him and his sister did she know he only thought of her as his slave.
His mother died shortly after, sick and too poor to afford treatment. He and his sister relied on each other since then. His father was nowhere to be seen after that.
On that fateful morning when he met Elsa for the first time, was when his father came back all of a sudden, asking Jack to help him. Forcing Jack to help him with the business.
"Did you?" Elsa looked at him.
"No." Jack sighed and tugged on his shirt.
"Then it's okay, everything will be okay."
"It's not okay. He's threatening to kill my sister if I don't help him in his dirty work."
He just dropped the bomb. He knew it.
However nice Elsa was, she'll never look at him in the same way again.
Pity.
In her eyes, that's what he'll see every single time.
Pity.
That was when she kissed him. Just a quick peck on the cheek.
"I don't want your pity." He smiled. Just a ghost of a smile, disappearing as quickly as it came.
"I don't pity you." She looked determined. "You are the strongest person I have ever met in my life."
"You don't mind?" He was approaching dangerous ground, every step could possibly mean the end of the only relationship he had with anyone other than his sister.
"Mind? Mind what?" She raised an eyebrow.
"That I'm from this background. That I'm still in this background." He looked down at his bare feet.
"No. Not at all." She smiled.
For the first time in a long time. He laughed. A genuine, happy laugh.
That's it :) Hope you enjoyed it and thank you again for reading this.
If you liked it please follow, favourite and comment :) it really means a lot to me.
I'll be trying out all kinds of genres if possible, so it won't always be this heavy and maybe more fluff next time:3 If you have any suggestions or criticism, feel free to let me know:)
Peace out, Secretlyawhale