This story is my first AU. I hope you enjoy it!
Based on the movie Labyrinth's characters! Enjoy!
Headphones have always been a haven. An electronic gift from some higher power. I suppose that would be some hotshot at a place like Samsung, but I digress. They are capable of transporting the wearer into an entirely new world by merely blocking everything else out. Humanity must have looked far and wide for something to provide such a useful tool to aid in isolation. Now, on a train running below Chicago, it's simple.
I push back and slide down comfortably into the blue, plastic seat of overused public transportation benches. I'm sure my raincoat squeaked as it adjusted against itself, but I can't hear more than the sweet sounds melodically pulsing in my head. My arms tightly wrapped around my messenger bag covered in pins. Most of these jingles were either free or donated by friends. It was my displayed collection of unnecessary flair for no reason other than a reminder of another time. A time when I didn't pay for my groceries or taxes and dreaming was the best thing I could do.
The smell of recycled, polluted air was something I have unfortunately now grown accustomed. It was always there to bring me back to the present when my mind wandered. Again, the headphones helped me not overthink about what I was breathing in. I guess I'm thankful that they are not only able to transport me with measured tones, but also a location that has a more pleasant scent and view. I've mastered a pose that produces a form of practical invisibility. I can ignore those who pass by and others who chose to sit next to me until my stop. With the help of a well-placed hood, I am in my own venue.
Why don't I drive? That isn't a long answer, but it is one that I've repeated often. At this point, I'm sure I'm avoiding the test to frustrate my mom more than anything.
"Sarah Williams," My step-mother Karen's shrill voice somehow always found a way to fill my thoughts. "Driving is certainly past the point of a 'right of passage.' This has become a necessity. Nineteen years old and still nothing? Don't you want freedom?"
What she didn't understand was that no one drives when they work and live in the city. The transit system was what delivers most of the inhabitants to their destinations daily. It provides a common ground at those who share the same streets and others who live on the outskirts. It also makes it possible not to pay outrageous prices for a parking spot — a win/win in my broke opinion.
A small chime rang out, and the doors pushed open. I had been seated for the past forty minutes and felt every muscle wake up all at once. Shifting my bag onto my shoulder, I began the migration with my fellow passengers out of the car and up the escalator. It isn't often I compare myself to an animal, but this always felt like being a sheep led to slaughter. Dark? A little.
The steps up to the surface began to grow even damper. Each drop of my boot squeaked onto the wet pavement. I looked up to see the bits of sun peeking out behind grey clouds. Its beams peaked out over the skyscrapers of State Street. The rain certainly didn't keep the area from bursting with life. It was spring after all, and the showers brought practically everyone out of hibernation. There wasn't much that the rain didn't wash away, but the sounds of footsteps always seemed to remain. Overall of them rang out those of a tireless man.
His worn, yet clean clothes were still drying from the last downpour. His heart was beating faster than I ever wanted mine too. It moved him forwards and back again, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. The shoes he wore looked nothing like those that passed by in ignorant bliss. On the bottom of the creased leather, soles sat several metal plates. When placed in contact with the warped wooden board he had put onto the wet concrete, the melody of "tap, tap, tap" was a gift given freely to uninterested passersby.
The man's thin body spun around as he danced. He flipped into the air, clicking his heels effortlessly. He tried only halfheartedly to gain the attention of those that had better places to be. His bright smile was always going unnoticed. There was still his shadow, and that was more than enough attention for the dancing man I daily made time to visit.
"Good mornin,' sunshine!" His grin shined brighter than the rays trying their best to reach those below.
I pulled one of the "peacekeepers" from my ear. The headphone fell to my shoulder with the cord dripping around my neck. "Hey, Leon." My raincoat hung almost to my knees. My red leggings popped against the yellow protector and hid covered by the black rain boots. My coffee-colored hair was pulled up in an already frizzy, mess of a bun so that I may ignore it. I dug into my bag and pulled out a brown, paper sack. Rough hands took it immediately. Leon slipped his feet back and forth in an excited manner and crinkled his gift. So much noise was never so wildly musical.
"Carrot cake!" He tilted his head and smiled larger than previously. "You certainly do know the way to my heart, Miss Williams." Even though I've known him for two semesters, Leon was a mystery. Not because he didn't want to tell me about himself, but because I guess I never asked. I assumed he was older, but then again, his skin was always so smooth. It was like Father Time forgot about him.
I would never assume anyone's age. I learned long ago that some things were better off being left alone. However, there are times when my train arrives early, and I'm able to talk to him. Every conversation I learn more, and every time we talk, he gets older and older. How had he seen so much? The History Channel? Running my hand over my acne scarred cheek to push back a stray curl and I smiled. His age isn't a piece of information I asked or cared about. It never seemed essential and continues to be useless. He is a guy on the street that makes me smile by his art.
After the first time I took the train into the center of town, he had been right where we were standing now. After living in a small, no-name town for my entire childhood, he was a breath of gifted air. While I would never consider him attractive personally, he was my first 'friend' in a new world.
There were days when he would be surrounded by tourists and commuters alike. He had his own little show. Every time, I would stop and take note of style he possessed; the charisma he exuded. Karen had always warned me about the people who live on the streets, but Leon was different. I studied art, and I know an artist when I see one. There were times I had to ask myself why he didn't continue to further his career. Why stay at this corner? Why continue to live in a life of meager means when his skills could provide more?
Leon always laughed when I would bring it up and tell me with his slight, Jamaican accent, that "This is where I want to be. Those who walk by require a bit of joy. If I can provide that for a brief time, my work was done." What little talks we have are small. There isn't always time between the start of my class and the train arriving at the stop. However, I call him a friend. Friends were something she had, but he was my first in Chicago, so he was my favorite.
I adjusted my bag again. "There was a little stand by my place selling all kinds of pastries." Not that I have much money, but what do have, I am happy to share. "I grabbed a scone I can take to class too, so don't think you're so special." My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. My alarm for class, causing the tingling sensation on my fingertips. "Which, I'm now running late for." Another adjustment and I went to the crosswalk. Waiting was painful, but necessary with the morning traffic.
"Ya, don't want to be late for knowledge! You never know when you're going to need it." He eased over the board and made a simple yet intricate sound; as if to say goodbye in a unique language only he knew. Leon made a big display of opening the paper bag and sticking his hand inside. The broken piece of brown, orange treat that had a delicious cream cheese frosting was held gently at his fingertips. Lifting it to his lips, he stopped short. That's where my turn at the light came, and I walked away.
I suppose the term walk is wrong. I sprinted; bobbing and weaving through businesspeople and students alike. I hated being late to class as it meant I had to sit in the front. Answering questions had to be one of my least favorite things, and those seats were a guarantee for contact with the Professor. It didn't matter the class, that was a "splash zone," and the teacher was a dolphin at a theme park.
Had I stuck around a bit longer with Leon, I would have seen his reaction to the snack I had left with him. I suppose I could have witnessed him smell the cake. Odd, but not uncommon. I would have watched as he pulled it back and then up closer to inspect the finest of details. I probably would have questioned why my friend tossed the brown paper bag down to the wet concrete and yell at him for running after- well, me; without a care in the world for crosswalks and any other prominent signage.
If I hadn't put my headphones back in their rightful place, I maybe would have heard him calling out to me as I rounded the last corner before my building. Perhaps if I had left one headphone out, I could have listened to his voice screaming my name or even the sound of his tap shoes hitting the ground would have gained my attention. I did, in fact, not hear him and I certainly didn't think I would have to hear anyone. Once I passed through the doors of the main building, it wasn't as if anyone could follow. I flashed security my ID and almost fell into the elevator. Another glance at my phone made me roll my eyes. Even with running, I was late.
The glow of the floors each alerting me to their passing seemed to go on for hours until I finally felt the jolt of the metal box stop on the 12th floor. As the doors opened, I slid out as soon as I could and sped down the familiar long, grey hall that was decorated sparsely with projects from students that had done them years before. Towards the end, there was a faux wooden door still propped open. I was late, but not too late.
Once inside the doorway, there was a glimmer of hope. The seat about midway into the group of desks was open, and it called out to me. Typically in classes such as this, there isn't a seating chart. Students sit in one place the first day, and there they remain. The kids in this room didn't follow that rule. Then again, this dolphin was known for picking those in the splash zone, and no one ever wanted to play.
My messenger bag dropped onto the plastic desktop, and I fell into the molded chair. The sound of my collection of buttons scratched the surface. The noise went unnoticed as others only now started to pull their mini-speakers from their ears, and I followed. I then swiftly removed my small Chromebook and plopped it open. Around me, others began to do the same. Some were large, gaming systems, and overall, most looked quite expensive. Either way, they did the job; note taking.
Russian history was dark and rich, filled with murder and uprisings. Not only had there been intense scandals, but it was also happened to fulfill a requirement. I can't say the topic is a considerable interest to me, but it fit my schedule.
"Hello, all." A rounded belly entered the room first followed by the jolly features of Mrs. Beddor. What little hair she had graced the top of her head had turned white long before now. Her thick-rimmed glasses sat low on her slightly bulbous nose. "Are we ready to continue our lesson on the Golden Horde?" She emphasized her words by dropping a stack of books on the podium at the front of the room. As could only be expected from an 8 am class, the class remained unmoved.
"Can't we talk about, Anastasia?" A girl in the far corner piped up. A murmur of agreement moved through the students. This wasn't a new question. Almost every class someone had to ask it and, as always, it was ignored by Mrs. Beddor. Her back turned to the whiteboard, and she began to draw a rough map of Russia. What wasn't in black, she then outlined in red.
"As we began to discuss last week, the 'Golden Horde' had a massive grasp on the Russian lands, but don't forget that there were also the White Horde and Blue Horde." She turned back to us, pushing up her glasses up with her pinky finger. "It was practically a pack of skittles." A chuckle escaped her large chest along with a content sigh, and she turned back to the board. "Genghis Khan had taken over quite a bit and then left it to his son. When his son passed, sadly before himself, it fell to his grandson. This kid, Batu Khan, got to work. Poland. Hungry. All had raided in their campaign."
The Professor continued to drone on, and most of my fellow students had lost interest since before the class had even started. I know I did. I had begun to think about the essay I had due tomorrow for my text analysis class when a low rumble alerted me to something that I had completely forgotten about in my rush for a seat. I slowly moved my hand down to where my bag and been set. Another growl not only caused me to stop my advance, but it also gained a look from the guy who had won the chair next to me. I smiled at the nameless face and quickly pulled out the pastry from my messenger bag
I guess in a rush the paper bag had found its way into the spaces between my Liberal Arts Mathematics book and my old, tattered copy of some Gothic romance I had yet even to start. I feared the worst as peeled back the paper. I quickly looked back around to make sure the crinkles had gone unnoticed by the eager Professor. This lady seemed to live and breathe Russia. I smiled and slowly began to remove the bits of scone that had not wholly crumbled and tossed them into my mouth. Luckily this was a class I didn't know anyone. Any judgments from the others would go unnoticed by me.
Immediately my stomach calmed as the mixture of sweet and citrus danced on my tongue. Another bite and then another, and I was finally feeling satisfied. A movement next to me made my brow furrow, and my hunger has to wait. It was the nameless face boy. Without using words, he looked to my bag and then back up to my eyes. His hand reached in an oddly polite manner for not wanting to speak. I had to admit, Nameless was cute, and I had to give him credit, this was a bold move for a stranger.
I shrugged and smiled, offering the bag in his direction. His plaid button-up looked like it was probably a Hot Topic buy one get one. He reached into the sack and pulled out a handful of pastry dust.
While he did look disheveled, he also looked so as if on purpose. He remained nameless as a small nod showed he finished. I pulled back; taking another handful myself. Within moments, the scone was no more.
"Can anyone tell me," Mrs. Beddor's voice cut through her euphoria. "What made this 'Golden Horde' so bad?'" She sat on the corner of the desk, lazily. This was a question she had always asked at every significant point of history. It seemed she took pride in making the students try and see both sides of the story. As if on cue, she scanned the 'splash zone.'
"It sounds like they were just bullies." A voice from the front of the class finally broke the long awkward silence. Her arrow hit its target. "They took territories and made them weak on purpose. They didn't want them to create an uprising." At this, the Professor pursed her lips and tilted her head. Her hand moved as if to say "so-so."
"Anyone care to debate? A child can be a bully, and yet he doesn't understand the concept of sharing. Can he be taught?" Mrs. Beddor began to pace the front of the room. Her gaze fell across every student in that front row before doing something new. The dark, emerald eyes moved to those a little further and further still. "Know that I'm not on their side. Gangis Khan had been ruthless."
I felt every extra crumb left in my throat. "However," Mrs. Beddor continued. "they were active for quite a while. The Prince's of Russia had to ask permission from and pay the horde. Why?" What I would give for a sip of water right now. I remembered nothing from the week before and reading the text, well, I hadn't. It was then that her gaze landed on me. It was like she could smell the desperation for me anywhere but here.
"There had to have been mutual ground." I croaked out and shoved the paper bag under my laptop. "Why keep anything that long unless provided some assurance of peace?" My voice gave away that I wasn't sure of my answer, and a blush rose to my cheeks.
"Precisely!" My eyes widened in shock as Mrs. Beddor cried in excitement. "Not everything is black and white or good and evil! My friends, we must learn that there is only gray in this world. I suppose you could say that the horde behaved a bit like the Mafia. They provided safety from other countries while being paid to do so. Without this time, Russia wouldn't be where it is now."
"But it ended." Nameless sitting next to me, leaned forward in his seat. "Right? Like, there isn't the Golden Horde anymore. Something had to have happened. So, it didn't stay safe."
Mrs. Beddor grinned wildly. She was genuinely thrilled that not only had two of her students spoken but now a third! Her hands came together. "And it did! The Plague happened to be one of the causes, but also the great Ivan the Terrible." The name sparked a bit of a flickering recognition on the faces of the lifeless faces strewn about the room.
The Professor picked up the marker and rushed to the whiteboard, only to be stopped by an electronic scream. Everyone turned to look at the red box on the wall flashing and continuing its repetitive beeps. Suddenly, all of the students gained energy from almost nowhere and began shoving their belongings into their bags.
"Please, walk." Mrs. Beddor spoke over the fire alarm. We didn't need to be told twice that class was over. Not that our time had ended, but at this point, it would be challenging to dispute all of us. The Professor seemed to have known foolish to have everyone return promptly once the all clear sounds. "Enjoy your day, and please be safe." She called out.
I was among the first groups that drifted down the stairs; joined by more and more floors full of tired eyes and large backpacks. The cry of sirens covered the sounds of our steps. Some of my classmates laughed, and others could care less. I held the railing as I spun from level to level. It didn't take long at all before our mass exited into the lobby. The security guards held open the doors open as we filed out.
I pulled my headphones out of my pocket and placed in one earbud. The weather had turned even bleaker since I had entered the building. While I technically should have waited to be counted for, I was all for having a half day in the city and continued to walk down towards the Harold-Washington Library. When I went to pop in my other earbud, a hand grasped my arm, and my eyes went wide.
Several things could and should have run through my mind: First: Run. Second: What? Finally, third: Scream. I wasn't able to even comprehend any of the three before I found myself pulled in the ally that separated the building from the firemen and police officers that could be of use at a time like this.
It wasn't fear that dictated my next moves, but anger. I struggled against whoever had a grip on me and went to yell but was stopped by a hand covering my mouth. Biting came to mind. The only thing that stopped me from continuing on my rage based reaction was a calm, familiar voice.
"Did you eat it, Miss Williams?" His voice was urgent. "Did you eat the scone?" I was spun around to face an anxious-looking Leon. Confusion now replaced the anger, and I felt my face scrunch up as I tried to piece the last few seconds together. Leon looked as though he had been sweating, but that could have also been from the rain. I pushed back from his grasp and fixed my messenger bag onto my shoulder, leading to a jingle of pins echoing in the ally.
As far as I'm now concerned, Leon was more of an acquaintance. Friend's don't kidnap friends, do they? My mind raced, thinking about how well I knew him. I suppose only slightly better than the barista from the Dunkin across from my apartment. It was only a little more because I knew his favorite hobby. Well, unless the barista's favorite pastime is coffee making.
With that thought, I felt anger slip back into my emotional well being. Leon had no business touching me, let alone dragging me into a dark space. He had asked me a question. What was it? About the scone? Within the madness, my hair had begun falling from my bun. I was already upset; no need to be more annoyed. I began to fiddle with it; fixing it as best as I could, but was too frustrated to do much. "What about it?" There was a crowd gathered. I'm sure all I have to do is scream and boom. I'm no longer in danger.
Leon reached forward and gripped my upper arm again, having all of my hair fall to my shoulders. I let out a yelp and tried to pull back. So much for screaming.
Before I could say anything, he pushed up my sleeve and inspected the red ring that had started to form at the base of my wrist. The dark strands that had fallen now framed my look of curiosity. I had forgotten entirely the earbud I had placed until also fell onto my chest. "What is this?" A weak voice shook out; nearly inaudible over the surrounding commotion. I blinked. That voice was mine.
Leon started to reach for my other arm, but as he did, I brought it up myself. I pulled back the raincoat sleeve and watched as drops from the sky fell onto the red of an identical ring. It looked as though it had been burned into my flesh years before. I inspected it closer. "What is it?" My gaze momentarily flickered the man who still wore musical shoes.
"We need to go." Instead of gripping any part of me as he had, Leon placed a gentle hand on the small of my back. A force from his touch pushed me deeper into the alleyway towards the light at the other side. That seemed to be the opposite of where we should be going, so I stopped.
"There are police there." I pointed towards the dissipating group of students. "This isn't right. They can maybe take a look and see if it's a reaction. It may just be an allergy. Aren't they trained to know this kind of stuff?" Why was I asking him? He was no friend. I shook my head and turned, walking to the safety of a crowd again.
My ears met the sound of metal scratching pavement as Leon ran in front; stopping me in my tracks. "It isn't an allergy. It's a bond." He was becoming frustrated. Good. He deserved to be. A glance at his watch and his arms lifted into the air. "Ya know what. I've done what I can."
"What you can?" What had he done? Pull me into an ally? Almost kidnap me? Then, suddenly, it made sense. What had he been doing outside of the building? We are nowhere near his corner. "You pulled the alarm?" Not so much an accusation as it was a realization.
"And they are most certainly looking at whatever cameras they have and will be putting out an APB for someone of my height, weight, color momentarily. If you don't want to come with me, so be it. However, I cannot protect you if you are far from me, and I don't plan on staying here." He turned and began to walk briskly toward the end of the brick sided street.
"Protect me?" He had used the word 'bond' before. Another look at the safety behind showed the students that had remained began to file back into the now silent building. The all-clear rang out, and classes would resume as usual for those that stayed. My gaze followed the tapping steps that echoed further and further away. "Protect me from what exactly?" Leon threw his arms up again to acknowledge me but was a show that he was unwilling to yell back an answer.