"Extra! C'mon read all about it! "A young boy in patched clothes and a brown cap shouted out into the busy streets. He scanned the crowd for possible buyers yet again. A small bundle of newspapers were stacked haphazardly in a bin behind him.
"Extra! Extra!" He shouted again, desperate to be heard over the rustling and bustling of bran new cars and slow paced citizens. Seriously? The boy thought, quite annoyed. No one? He had placed himself here, at the pier in a respectable part of England filled with shops and curious onlookers for a reason. This place was packed with richies (the "privilege" up here in London), he sneered. Ugh, the scent of expensive perfume and hair gel was making him sick, but he was sure that it would be worth it.
Earlier he was scavenging the slums of London, walking up to random people asking if they wanted to buy the post. He had found very few interested, and if they were they probably wouldn't have the money, so he was forced to of course, drop the price. Because of this he would often end up on the short end of the stick, but not today. Up here people can buy his goods full price! So naturally this is where he should be if he wants to get the proper money right?
"Wrong" The kid looked around and sighed in defeat finding none of the polished people looking his way. They couldn't even spare him a glance, but he had learned a while ago that the difference between class is important to the people of England and always will be. He picked up the bin and walked into the shadows of an alleyway to review on his progress of the day.
He started with 24 papers to sell and ended the long day with 21. He bit his lip, not enough. It's not enough, the realization struck him hard. He ran his hands through his dark brown hair in frustration. How is he going to face him with nothing to show? He couldn't. He promised he wouldn't. He let the papers fall and leaned against the grimy brick wall.
The first thing he noticed was the smell, it assaulted his senses and he was immediately drawn to it. He walked forward slowly into the light with squinted eyes. Once his eyes adjusted he had to keep himself from falling to his knees, a chubby baker in white was stacking the finest bread he had ever seen onto a cart. It was golden and so fresh looking; he could imagine the warm bread melting on his tongue. His mouth went dry. That was his goal all along, to be able to afford those small but alluring loafs. He looked down at the few shillings he had and flinched. He realized he probably will never be able to afford them himself. The starvation brought on torturous thoughts of swallowing a delicacies like that. Next his stomach constricted. Well, by now he has surely earned it. He tried reassuring himself.
He walked into the open immediately attracting the attention of a few families, their chatter hushed into suspicious whispers and stray glances in his direction. He scowled and continued, once nearing the baker he decided it was best to stick to the shadows. It was a rare sunny day in London and he silently cursed that fact. It would be easier to see him this way. He prayed silently that the baker wouldn't look his way but it was all for naught. Dark eyes met his own hazel ones in confusion. Damn him! It was now or never, he darted towards the stand and snatched a few loafs, turned on his heels and ran.
"Thief! THIEF!" The strangled cry of the baker sounded loudly behind him. His breathing hitched as fear ripped through him like a category five hurricane. The thin boy grunted as he tried to suppress it and run faster while navigating his way through the market. His muscles felt slow and hard to move with the lack of nutrition, this only added to his building panic. Oh yes, he was very much afraid. No more denying sound of footfalls and men shouting neared him. Thinking of what they would do to him if they caught him pushed him to the sheer edge of hysteria. He teetered but caught himself before the fall. He mentally slapped himself and kept close what was important. Brown eyes that glittered and a week smile. His strides doubled in speed and his breathing became even. The panting seemed now like a distant threat. Although still a threat. He needed to lose his pursuers.
He neared a clearing and almost shouted in triumph, he was almost there. Fake laughter, girls with big breasts and skirts above the ankles told him he was home. He smirked, this was his turf now; he made a sharp left into an alley and another into a deserted street. The men continued the opposite way apparently not noticing his little detour. He started snickering to himself as he slowed his pace.
"Idio-" He was tackled to the ground in one fluid motion. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as his small frame was covered by much larger one. He looked up to find a man with wide green eyes and light brown hair pinning him to the ground. His mouth was in the shape of an "o".
The boy in the mud believes that he could've been attractive if he didn't have such a stupid look plastered on his face. He was silent for a moment until he realized he was missing something, he turned his head to see that the golden goodness was in the mud.
"Get off of me you jerk!" The young boy started struggling in the arms of this stranger.
"Get away! Get away!" he screamed again in frustration. Why did he do that? Was he apart o that group chasing me?
"I'm Antonio." He said, still staring into the other boys eyes.
"No you're strange. Get off of me I said!" The boy had enough and lashed out. He kicked him hard in crotch, grabbed his bread and was running yet again. He left the "Antonio" on the street groaning, he smirked. Hah, he won't be coming after me again.
Once in the clear, he slowed down once again to a walk. This time he checked his surroundings first. He had past his physical capabilities long ago but he didn't care, he needed to find him. He searched each of their usual alleys and he came up with nothing. He grit his teeth and continued on.
"Lovino!" He heard his name.
"Lovino over here!" He recognized his brother's voice and followed it to an old abandoned pub when he found him wandering in front of.
"Feliciano what are you doing?" Lovino sprinted over to him with his last bit of energy and engulfed him in a warm hug. For a few moments Feliciano felt happy until his brother yanked him away roughly by the shoulders.
"Stupid brother why are you here and out of bed?!" He could basically feel the anger emanating off of Lovino.
"I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't think..." Tears started welling up in the younger brother's eyes.
"No, you never think! You can't be so careless! Somebody could've seen you! They could've taken you away from me Feliciano!"
"You were go-gone for so long I c-came look-k-king!" He was full on crying now and something pulled in Lovino. He sighed and picked up his sobbing brother and wrapped his legs around his waist, Feliciano put his arms around his neck and continued sobbing into his shoulder. Lovino adjusted under his weight.
"Look, I'm sorry but you can't do that anymore, not here, not like this." Lovino rubbed his back in smooth circles while he walked back. Feliciano buried deeper into his shoulder. Lovino's eyes stayed firmly on the road.
"Why can't I be like the other boys?" His voice was small and week sounding as he slowly started to drift off to sleep. Lovino's voice softened at his tone.
"Because you're not like them, you're special okay?" his answer was the soft sound of snoring. Lovino continued on his track, deep in thought. Who was this "Antonio" and why didn't he call for his comrades when he found me? Questions like this continued to bother him all night, along with the lingering feeling of Romano's hands of his wrists, it was almost impossible to fall asleep. He brought his brother closer to himself and kept the dirty bread between them. His eyelids began to get heavy.
Antonio watched silently from across the way. He narrowed his eyes, no this simply wouldn't do.