The train ride was mostly empty, unlike the usual packed trips he took to get home. There was no one else on the train except for some kid. He couldn't have been more than 14, maybe 15. He wore an obnoxiously colored jump suit with a blue and pink shirt underneath, headphones the size of one of Mo's hands covering each ear snugly. If it had been any other day, a busier day, with more people, he wouldn't have caught the small humming noise that traveled through the boy's throat and behind his closed lips.
Mo watched the boy for a while, curious as to why he was traveling alone. Maybe he didn't have anyone… a small pang of sadness and sympathy resonated through his body, understanding. He didn't have anyone either. No parents, no siblings, no one to come home to… He shook the thought from his mind and looked at the Asian boy again, paying attention to body language.
He appeared closed off, distant, broken away from the world. He was obviously lonely, just by the way he was staring blankly out of the window could give it away. Thinking it was none of his business, Mo looked away reluctantly and continued his ride.
Over the course of the next few weeks, every time he would get on the train, that same boy would be there, in the same clothes, looking the same as the previous day.
It didn't really worry Mo until one day, when he got on. There wasn't anyone one except the two of them. The dark haired boy wasn't looking out the window, he was curled up. His knees were against his chest and his head was bowed.
Mo furrowed his brow. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing anymore. Instead, he slipped into the seat beside him and carefully put a hand on his shoulder.
"'Ey. Y'a'ight?" The toprocker asked the smaller boy softly, blinking when said boy lifted his head to look up at the taller male. He had a black eye and his lip was split open from where he'd been in an obvious fight.
More concerned that before, Mo knelt in front of the boy and looked him over. "Y'a'ight?" He asked again, more seriously than before when he thought maybe the boy was in a bad mood.
With a quick shake, the small teen shrugged off the hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm fine." He said sharply, looking away from the man who was showing him some kindness. He wasn't going to fall for it, not again. No one showed kindness without wanting something in return.
Mo lowered his hand and watched the boy blankly for a while before the train stood. It was Mo's stop.
Without much of a thought behind it, the tallest teen picked up the huffy boy and threw him over his shoulder, ignoring his protests as Mo left the train, walked out of the station, down the streets, and to his own apartment, holding the flailing body tightly.
When they arrived at Mo's place, said rocker unlocked his front door and shouldered the door open before he set the Asian boy on the couch, grabbing a first-aid kit from the coffee table and opening it, working on fixing the busted lip. As he worked, he tried to get something out of the boy.
"Y'know, the subway's dang'rous alone. Why d'ya ride it by yerself?"
The boy just stared blankly at the floor, earning a small irritated brow tick from Mo.
"W'll, don'cha got s'mewhere ta be? I'kin take ya."
Still more silence.
With a small sigh, Mo continued. "Ya know, y'could at least gimme a yes 'r no." He muttered quietly, deciding maybe it was best to just be quiet.
The silence stretched for a good ten minutes before the small teen spoke up.
"I don't have anyone. And I don't have anywhere." He whispered as he stared at the floor, making Mo look up at him with a furrowed brow.
"I sleep on the train and I got into a fight trying to take some food from some older kids." With a gesture of his hands, he motioned to his face.
Dropping his hand as he finished the boy's lip, Mo went quiet, wheels in his head turning rather quickly. He had no one, this kid had no one.. "M'not lettin' ya sleep on tha train, yo." He said, holding up a hand when the other started to protest. "Yer gonna live here n'w 'nd yer gonna deal. Or Imma call tha cops 'nd tell 'em wh're you've b'n sleepin'." With that, he stood and went into the kitchen, ignoring the open-mouth boy except to ask him what he wanted for lunch.
Weeks passed to months. Trying to get to know this kid was like trying to pull teeth out of a rabid pitbull's mouth.
"Wh're'd ya use'ta live?"
Nothing.
"How old 'r ya?"
Nada.
"What's yer name?"
Zero.
It was so frustrating. One day he'd caught the boy blasting Technologic through his headphones, up and moving like he was dancing for a crowd of hundreds. When he'd caught Mo watching, he nearly fell over in surprise and embarrassment. It was from then on that he'd start calling the little locker Glitch, which seemed to almost please the smaller boy, like that name should have been his given name.
One day, the two of them were chilling at Mo's place, watching TV, and something came on.
Flipping through the channels, they stopped for a moment on the news, listening to a story about a local family that had abandoned their 6-month old little boy on the streets. The parents had yet to be found.
"That's disgusting." Glitch said suddenly in a heated voice. "How could they just leave their child like that? Doesn't that baby mean anything to them? Don't they love it? If they were just going to leave it, they should have just never had a goddamn kid." His teeth grit as he spoke, ignoring the mist that covered his eyes in a few seconds.
Mo looked over at the boy in surprise. He was sure that was the most he'd ever heard Glitch say in one sitting. Regardless, his eyes softened and he wrapped his arm around the boy's trembling shoulders, pulling him close.
"I dunno, G. B't ya'know their gonna regret'it. Maybe not t'day, 'r t'morra, but in a co'ple years, when dat boy's grown 'nd h's rock'd tha world, their gonna regret ev'rything they did. 'Nd th't kid'll be tough 'nd be able ta laugh 'nd live 'nd love like tha best 'f us." He said, looking down at the reddened face that was looking up at his in slight awe.
"Y… You think he will?"
Mo laughed a little. "Tch, boy! I kn'w so."
Glitch inhaled shakily, closing his eyes tightly as he face contorted, burying it into Mo's chest and pent up anger and pain and rage and sadness released itself, sobbing in the arms of the teen who had given him some kind of hope for his future.
Mo held the boy against his chest protectively, feeling a strong emotion sweep over him.
He hadn't had someone in a long time. But now, they had each other. They weren't alone anymore.