"Put him down." The coldness of the young man's voice gave the three brutes pause for thought, while managing to further terrify their captive. While his build was small compared to the crowd, he gave off an intimidating aura. A fedora was carefully placed at an angle over his eyes, shadowing them enough to be incredibly foreboding. His suit was expensive and well-tailored, though suspiciously loose at the chest, which was where his hand was creeping now.
"Did I not make myself clear?" his hand was fully in his pocket and holding onto whatever was in there. "Release him or I will resort to less polite ways of asking." His expression looked blank, but a close enough look showed his frown.
The assembled group paused. Despite not being particularly smart, they knew a thing or two about the world of crime. They knew enforcers, and that they often carried particularly nasty handguns, as well as more connections than most people would make in a lifetime. While they might have had a chance against him on pure brute strength, the man was well-trained and likely armed.
Best not to risk it.
Slowly, begrudgingly, their victim was pushed out of the huddle, left between a rock and a hard place. He was shivering in his badly-insulated suit. Though he had a thick formal jacket, it was cheap, and provided little warmth when soaking wet and still standing in an exposed alley. Pinstripe fabric stuck to pale skin, making him feel even more exposed.
"Now then. If I see you near him again, you will regret it."
One of the thugs drew himself up. "You don't get to threaten me, you-"
"Unlike me, you are a dime-a-dozen piece of mindless muscle. Get out of my sight before you annoy me any more."
The tallest growled before he finally turned to their leader, a stocky brunette who spent more time in the gym weekly than he'd ever spent time in school. Finally, they decided to just comply, shuffling reluctantly to...wherever they felt like. Probably the nearest place with cheap alcohol.
At this the young man rolled bright green eyes beneath his hat's brim, reaching up to re-angle it at the right roguish tilt. He then turned to the still-shivering man and gave a polite, reassuring smile.
"Are you OK there...?"
"M-Mike."
"Mike. Nice name."
"T-thanks?"
The young man smiled wider, and offered his hand. "You're welcome."
Mike took the offered hand gingerly, suddenly very aware of himself and how pathetic he probably looked. There was a small moment where he noted the expensive leather glove and the tiny band of tattooed skin visible between the glove and the crisply pressed shirt. For a second, Mike felt a little more confident, almost warm, but it evaporated when the arm returned to the man's side.
"So, do you...have a place? Think it might be best if I make sure you're not alone. Least til those guys have cleared off for good."
"I uh..." Mike tailed off, remembering that technically, he didn't any more. Nancy had had enough of him doing nothing to help with the debt issue, and kicked him out of her apartment. He couldn't exactly buy his own place, so...no.
"Nothing right now?" The young man asked. He was smiling still, but it had a gentle look, instead of being smug or malicious.
"Nah." Mike tried to reclaim some of his usual ego, though it came out slightly deflated.
"Huh." The other pulled a pensive face, poking his face out of the alley and glancing both ways.
"Yeah I think we can go around 5-10 minutes up the road. Should be a flat you can have for a while."
Mike's eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his white hair (He should really have gotten that cut, especially since now it was wet and dripping rain in his face). People did not just give away houses, no matter how nice they were. "The hell?" he murmured.
The young man turned to him, a curious expression on his face. "Do you have some other idea?"
"No, I just thought that you couldn't give away houses and stuff. Aren't there rules and stuff?" Mike groaned inwardly when he realised his repeat, blood rushing into his face. He wasn't exactly sure why he was blushing, but he was very aware of the fact his albino condition made it a thousand times more obvious.
Thankfully, the man was too busy patting down his pockets to correct repetition. Eventually he managed to produce a well-hidden umbrella, opening it before offering it to Mike. After a half-hearted attempt at being polite and refusing, Mike took the umbrella gladly, leading to a smile from the other man.
"Ready?" he asked, gesturing out of the alley. Mike nodded, walking forward so they fell in step next to each other, the taller man closest to the road. Reflections of a rainbow of neon light bounced of his sharp features. Since there wasn't much conversation, and the man had yet to reveal his name, Mike focused on trying to remember as much of his mysterious rescuer as possible.
The man's eyes were green, but unlike the usual green grass etc, his eyes were more like dark, glittering emeralds -Where did that come from? Holy mother that was gay, Mike thought. Moving on swiftly from that, he looked to other features of the man.
Dark red hair? Probably dyed, right?
Expensive suit, so probably either born rich or pretty well-connected.
Tattoos could mean anything. Troublemaker, or just a fashion statement? Or no reason at all.
"So...what you doing now?"
Mike snapped out of his study to turn to the other.
"Uh, what?"
"Y'know, like...a job or a project or whatever?" The man shrugged, his black jacket slipping a little down his shoulders.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Doin' some singing down at the theatre."
The man's step faltered for a second. He turned to Mike, grinning. "No way."
"What?" Mike snapped, turning his head toward the taller man.
"You're that guy from the show!" He visibly lit up. "Oh my God, you were amazing!"
"Oh." Not the reaction he was expecting, but a pleasant surprise. While it was difficult to run into a non-tourist who hadn't seen the landmark show, he managed to keep people off his back with his general unapproachable aura. His odd appearance didn't really help him blend in, but Hell if he'd give up his style. Besides, sometimes people gave you things for being famous, which helped given his current situation.
Factoring this all in, he decided to go for the ever-eloquent mumbled thanks.
"Hey, you're welcome! My friend actually got into music again cuz of you and your friends."
"Really?" Mike took a moment. He helped someone. He didn't even get paid (or something that rhymed). His companion was smiling again, and for some reason he preferred that. They continued in content silence for a while, before coming to an unassuming apartment building, just like the dozens on each side of the road once you got past the shops.
Mike stood awkwardly under the umbrella as the other once again went through the routine of patting down his clothes trying to find the key. He fished a comically full keyring out and managed to eventually separate the three keys with blue covers, taking two of them off and giving them to Mike.
"I'll keep this one just in case, kay?"
"Yeah, fair enough." Some of his usual swagger was returning now that he felt a little more comfortable.
His companion led the way inside, going to the furthest end of the hall and unlocking the door. Like a true gentleman, he held the door open as they went in.
Immediately Mike was struck by how warm it was. Even the colours and lights fit, providing comforting shades of brown and orange, as well as some copper where metal fit. It looked like it had been pulled from the pages of an Ikea planner's greatest dream and given to him. For a ground floor apartment in the middle of town, it was heaven. Decent kitchen too, if Mike had ever had half a mind to try cooking.
"So I just get ta live here?" he asked, still not entirely sure his pursuers hadn't just put him in a coma, and this was all some pleasant, cold, well-designed dream. The other nodded, smiling before placing his hat and suit jacket on the radiator to dry. Without them, it was easy to see how that mid-length hair fell over his eyes. Probably why he had the hat, but still.
"Yeah. I'm thinking we celebrate."
"Celebrate how?" as much as he'd like to have a viable excuse for excessive alcohol, being around people was the last thing he wanted.
"Like all great celebrations," he began, opening the cupboard under the sink. He emerged with several bottles of strong liquor "with booze.". There was a mischievous grin on his face, the kind that said bad decisions were going to be made, and the person making them was completely prepared for that.
A few empty bottles later, they were slumped in the comfier armchairs around the low copper coffee table giggling about some bad pun from 15 minutes ago. Mike was a little more reserved in his laughter, despite being more drunk. His companion, on the other hand, snorted loudly at everything that was said.
There was a rare pause in their ramblings, and the two just looked at each other. Mike blinked for a few moments, before the other stood up and jumped into his lap. They giggled again before leaning in to each other's faces.