(Prin's POV)
Sitting on the subway bench with nothing with me except for my clothes and a small backpack filled with some of my more needed things, I felt oddly out of place. I knew that I needed to make some money and fast. My Auntie Jia before she kicked me out used to say I had the most beautiful voice and prettiest smile.
Maybe that could help me. . . I started to tap on the bench, catching a glance from one or two people. I stopped, thinking of a song I knew well. I thought deeply for a second, debating between a Rascal Flats song and a Halsey song.
Picking one, I closed my eyes as I searched my mind for the first cord I was supposed to hit. Breathing deep, I opened my eyes and breathed slowly and carefully for a minute or two. People kept walking, not one of them bothering to pay any mind to me.
"I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let 'em out
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though goin' on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me . . ."
For a moment, I carried off, seeing that a couple people had stopped to listen to the old song. I swallowed a little nervously and gathered up my courage, continuing on with my song. As I started to sing again, more people stopped to watch.
"What hurts the most was being so close
And havin' so much to say
And watchin' you walk away
And never knowin' what could've been
And not seein' that lovin' you
Is what I was trying to do
It's hard to deal with the pain of losin' you everywhere I go
But I'm doing it
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still harder gettin' up, gettin' dressed, livin' with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken-"
I had been singing loud enough that two other people sitting in the tunnel stood up and moved closer to me. Both were guys, one holding an acoustic guitar, another with drum sticks hitting the walls and a few other things around. I smiled to them and sung with all the force I had in my lungs, despite the pain I felt radiating in my chest from singing so loud.
"What hurts the most was being so close
And havin' so much to say
And watchin' you walk away
And never knowin' what could've been
And not seein' that lovin' you
Is what I was trying to do, oh
What hurts the most was being so close
And havin' so much to say
And watchin' you walk away
And never knowin' what could've been
And not seein' that lovin' you
Is what I was trying to do. . ."
People cheered and applauded, handing money to me and the other boys. I smiled and gave a small and meek 'thanks' with each person handing me dollar bills ranging from ones to twenties, and blushing at all of the compliments I gained. After some of the people cleared away, the two boys moved over to me.
"You sing good," the guitarist said confidently.
"Thanks," I shrugged. "What's your names?"
"I'm Tate," the guitarist introduced himself, sitting down beside me on the bench.
"I'm Jason," the drummer grinned.
I froze. Jason. . . Why did that sound oddly familiar? I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking for a moment.
I think once or twice Auntie Jia had mentioned a name similar to Jason, but that was about it. Never before had I correctly heard it. Each time that I had asked, Jia had snapped that it was wrong to eavesdrop and switched the subject to something else.
Now, it was bugging the life out of me. I let out a sigh and put on a smile, looking at both the boys. Jason was light skinned with bright green hazel eyes and black hair cut at the sides and fluffed on the top; Tate was pretty simple with olive skin, brown hair, and light gray eyes.
"What's your name, Blondie?" asked Jason as he sat down on the other side of me.
"Blondie," I replied, smirking. "Sorry, boys, but I don't really give out my name. I just don't trust people all that much. . ."
"Why? Run away from home?" Tate simply blurted, casually draping an arm behind me.
"No," I growled, remembering the day two years ago. "I got kicked out."
"That stinks," Jason huffed. "I know how you feel."
"Why'd you get kicked out?" I asked, looking at him.
"Experimented with dope and got hooked on it," he grumbled. "I regret it a lot. I've been working on sobriety so that I can go back home. I miss my pa and sisters."
"I wish I could miss where I came from," I stared down at my hands, the few Runes sticking out on my skin, the scars still remaining.
"What do you mean?" Tate shifted beside me.
"It wasn't exactly your home sweet home," I scoffed, laughing and shaking my head. "I'll tell you this much: there was no 'momma and daddy' for me. Only Auntie Jia and Uncle Patrick and cousin Aline. I was there for most of my life. . . I was miserable there."
"Why? What happened there?" Jason and Tate were leaning closer, eager and interested in my story.
"When you're in a house with people who hate your entire existence, you're not exactly ecstatic to go back there after school each day. Being slapped on the back of your head by large text books, forced and broken so that you're the perfect little machine that they want you to be, and pushed beyond your limits. The lies forced down your throat," I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyelids, sighing shakily. "Then all because you finally snap and yell back at them and spill all the feelings you've held back for eleven years, you're hit and tossed out of their house with nothing but a bag of clothes, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush. I don't miss it there. I'll die before I go back to that hellhole."
"Sorry, Blondie," Tate rubbed my arm in sympathy. "I can't really relate to your position. I left home because my parents hit me."
"People have it a lot worse than I did," I sighed as I sat up and looked out at the other wall of the subway station.
"But now you're living like this," Jason urged. "I managed a couple jobs and have a good hotel room that I rented out. Tate, what do you have?"
"An apartment," he shrugged. "You sleep where?"
"In the park during the days," I answered shamefully. "Or the beach."
"No one should have to deal with that," Tate have me a hug by wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
"Like I've said before, people have it a lot worse than me," I shrugged off his arm and caught the gaze of a stranger. My eyes were locked with shockingly familiar dual blue and brown eyes. I tensed and studied the person I was staring at.
It was a tall blonde male with a black shirt, a black leather jacket, and black pants, dual eyes, and Runes on his skin. Beside him was a short red haired girl with green eyes. Another walked up to him, a tall tan ebony haired girl with tar brown eyes, and stood beside him as she muttered something he didn't acknowledge at all.
Instead, he was busy staring dead at me. I gulped and felt a strange feeling as if I knew this guy. Strange as it was, I felt like I had been around him my entire life.
It felt like this was my best friend that I saw every day whenever I met his gaze again. His eyes suddenly blew up wide, face filled with pure shock. He said something to the girls and then began to push his way over to me.
"I have to go," I said to Jason and Tate, putting the money in my backpack, pulled the straps onto my shoulders, and raced alongside the wall towards the stairs leading out of the tunnels.
When I came to the upside of Manhattan, I took off in a full run.
