Oliver walked slowly, dragging his bare feet over the concrete footpath. He didn't know why his feet felt like lead weights, or why his whole body screamed to turn around, to run as far away from his destination as possible. But he couldn't. He needed this job. The thought of the docks repulsed him. There, the air was choked with smoke, dirty orphans worked all day for a few coins, men shuffled around glaring at the workers and children strained their backs and arms lifting heavy boxes for days on end.
How can I even think of doing this? Oliver thought. Then he shook his head and kept walking. I need the money.
But was it worth it? Oliver's feet stopped moving, and he simply stood on the footpath, battling with himself. He thought of that horrible image, those orphans with dirt stained faces and torn clothes, the men who strolled around yelling at people, the ash-choked air. He imagined himself there. What he saw made him shudder. His navy cloak was torn to ribbons, his hat covered in dirt. His bandages were falling undone. Worst of all, his faced matched the children around him. Desolate. Hopeless. Abandoned. Empty.
Oliver's legs shook, and he sank to the pavement. His right eye – the one not obscured by bandages – prickled, and Oliver blinked hard, but it was no use. Soon tears were falling freely down his face, and he sat with his head in his hands on the footpath. Then he heard footsteps approaching, but ignored them, completely submerged in his misery.
"Hey, are you alright?" said a male voice.
With a sniff, Oliver looked up. A man with long purple hair and violet eyes was standing above him. Concern was written all over his face. Oliver hurriedly wiped at his face.
"I – I'm fine," he said, after releasing his clenched throat.
The man frowned.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Oliver nodded firmly.
"Yes." He said.
The man shrugged.
"Where are you off to?" he asked.
Oliver hesitated, and then decided it wouldn't do any harm.
"The docks." he said.
The man frowned.
"What's your name?" he asked finally.
"Oliver," Oliver said automatically.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Why don't you come with me?"
Oliver tensed. He had only too much experience of what happened when a lone man asked if you would go somewhere with him. Then he sighed. Anywhere was better than the bleak docks. He swallowed, and then nodded.
The man smiled and put a hand on Oliver's back to guide him forward. Oliver flinched at the touch, and the man took his hand away and instead led him down a side street, then out onto a main road.
"What's your name by the way?" Oliver asked as they walked.
The man chuckled to himself.
"I'm Gakupo." He said. "I'm one of the Vocaloids."
"Oh… I see…" Oliver said.
He left it there as they walked down the road, the houses becoming bigger and fancier as they went. Soon the houses were so big and fancy that Oliver saw fit to start calling them mansions, and Oliver stared up at them. Finally the 'Gakupo' man stopped and nodded at a camera hidden in a big white painted gate. The gate slid open on oiled hinges and Gakupo lead the nervous Oliver up a short gravel path and up three steps to the huge polished wooden door. Gakupo pushed on the door, and it swung open. Oliver gasped.
"Oh… my… goodness…"
au: Helooo to anyone who has risked their sanity by reading this! This is my first fanfic on this site, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I'm planning to upload another chapter soon, but I'm still trying to get the hang of the site. Yes, I am very negative about myself, so any random cheer-up comments are also welcome! Also if you have any ideas for me to put in the fanfic, feel free to share them, cause I've only thought a couple of chapters ahead. Anyways, *begins to back towards the door* I take my leave! Farewell, good ladies and gentlemen! *runs out the door* *runs back in a bows then runs away again*