Title: Get Lost!
I did some research in how orphanages and such worked, but... I realized that nothing in the DC universe is remotely realistic anyway. Why stifle myself with realism? Or canon? Just roll with it, people.
5°C = about 40°F, for the record.
-Chapter 1-
Despite the conspicuous lack of rain, Evan's clothes were soaking. He rather regretted leaving his shoes behind, but you can't blame a kid for being in a hurry. It's pretty dark after all, and Evan was still just young enough for there to be scary things in the shadows. Not monsters, perhaps, but he was just able to quantify the fear of what could be there, out of his line of sight. He hadn't intended to be out so late; he hadn't intended to leave his room at all, after dinner. Was anybody looking for him? Would anybody notice he wasn't there? The conflict between wanting someone to notice he was gone and the desire to crawl into a hole and disappear forever was essentially the only thing keeping him moving. The muddier his feet got running through the grass and moss on his way to the other end of town, however, the more exhaustion settled into his bones, the more his muscles ached, the more tired he felt, and he started slowing down.
He skids to a stop and practically falls on his face when he realizes that he's actually been heading the wrong way. He wants to throw a fit about unfair it is. Nonetheless, the loss of his momentum means that he now slowly trudges down a cracked, uneven alley, head hanging, lip bitten to hold in tears.
When he gets to the end of the alley, he stops. It's late. Far too late to head back home. Without strenuous exercise, the freezing damp and weight of his clothes becomes overwhelming. He can find home tomorrow. He needs a place to sleep tonight. He's not in a position to be picky about it.
He has enough thought power left after today to not just lie on the ground where he is; it's October, it has to be about 5°C. Not really a nice time to be sleeping outside in wet clothes. If he can find some sort of abandoned building, that'd be great; he's on the edge of town in a seedy area, a place all the kids are told not to visit alone. There has to be a place to squat for a night. Even better if no one else is occupying it, so that he doesn't have to answer any questions.
He racks his brain for a location for a moment-a lot of businesses in this part of town have closed down recently, haven't they? or were they all being bought up by some engineering thing?-but he starts when a light turns the corner and washes over him. He jumps back against the wall, hoping that the car will just drive by his location. The car instead gently pulls into a parking spot near a hardware store across the street. Two men get out of the car, one who is handsomely nondescript and the other who is tall, lanky, and dressed far too well to be from this part of town. Or in it, frankly.
"Nathan," said the tall man, "are you sure this is the right time? It's after hours."
"I can see that. 'Course." said the other man. "There's a light on, see? We can order all the screws we want, Willie."
The tall man looks slightly disdainful. "We need more than screws to fix things."
"Well, ask him about it. He's finally giving us the time of day." The nondescript man pauses, then shrugs halfheartedly. "Night."
"Enlightening." the tall man said listlessly, and motions for Nathan to follow him. "Let's go before he changes his mind and disappears on us." Evan takes their relative distraction as his opportunity to back down the alley he came down, being extremely careful not to kick any rocks. When he reaches the end, he makes a hard left.
Of course, while Evan avoided notice, he wasn't any closer to figuring out where he should go. He shivers.
It feels like he wanders aimlessly forever, but then he spots it. Down another alley, one almost half-sized compared to the others he's wandered through today, is some sort of abandoned shack, hidden behind other, slightly newer buildings. The door has the tattered remains of police tape from at least a few months ago, and the windows are boarded over. He runs over and quickly circles the building, hoping for an open window, but they were all sadly intact. He did, however, find what seemed to be a hole in the lip of the roof that looked promising. The lot, tiny as it was, was full of junk. Evan sought out the sturdier looking stuff and stacked a fair amount of things next to the wall. He climbs up carefully and jumps the rest of the way, grabbing hold of the wall and pulling himself up through the hole, pushing what little insulation there was out of the way. He tumbles over the edge without any level of grace and falls onto an old couch. The couch smells like old and dirt and insulation and he's never been so happy to be on a couch in his life.
It's not as dark as he thought it'd be. When he looked through the cracks in the window boards before breaking in he couldn't see anything, but in truth every window had blinds that were angled to allow moonlight inside. He could see that the shack was filled to the brim with wires and scrap metal and what could only be described as electrical knick-knacks. Bulb-less lamps, old radios, old computer monitors... it was a garage sale waiting to happen. The place was surprisingly well organized, all things considered, seeing as nothing fit together cohesively.
Looking around the room some more, he noticed that the couch was not the only piece of furniture in the room. Across the room were three desks sat together in a U-shape. They were obviously not from a set-one looked more appropriate for a teenage girl's room than whatever this place was supposed to be, at least-but they were all roughly the same height, and the rolling office chair probably sat reasonably comfortable at all of them.
On the right side of the room seemed to be a tiny kitchen; a wall-hanging sink, a vintage fridge, and a large set of cabinets that had some cheap, college student level cooking equipment laying on it. He was tempted to rummage for food, but he kind of feared what could be found in this fridge. The other end of the room had a cheap metal door.
This place would be great to stay at, if not for the walls. The walls were covered by mirrors and other assorted types of glass, of all shapes and sizes. It looked like someone had spent a lifetime to dig through peoples' trash for their old glass; many mirrors were cracked, if not outright missing pieces, and broken shards were haphazardly taped to the wall. Seeing his own face in so many places, from so many angles, was slightly nauseating in ways he couldn't describe.
Nonetheless, he rises to his feet on shaky legs and walks over to the metal door. He pulls it open before he can chicken out to reveal... a bed. Literally just a bed. The bed blocked one of the doors; the door to the outside, Evan realized. No wonder he couldn't shove it open earlier.
The room is tiny-barely enough room around the single bed to scoot over to the other door. A tiny bathroom. A corner toilet/sink combo and what might count as a shower, if one stretched the imagination. Everything, ceiling to walls to floor, was covered in cheap tile. Evan didn't want to think about water at the moment, and quickly shut the door, turning back toward the bed.
The bed didn't look like it had been slept in recently, which was both comforting and creepy, seeing how pristine it was. In the end, however, tiredness won and Evan quickly crawled underneath the covers.
He drifts into a dreamless sleep.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
The next day, he wakes up bright and early. Which is rare.
He sits up and rubs his eyes, debating what to do next. His stomach rumbles and he supposes that settles the matter. He slips out of bed and slides his tired feet across the floor, lazily pushing the door open.
He slowly scans the room, starting when he realizes all is not how he left it last night. There was a man with dark hair laying on the couch, curled up lightly to fit, laying on his side. Evan froze, praying that the man wouldn't wake up somehow and notice him, but the man didn't move. Thousands of questions fly through his brain, but nothing sticks, displaced by the fast-rising panic of getting caught.
Evan quickly decides that he wants nothing to do with this place and moves to leave-but. There's only one way out. Above the couch. That the man is sleeping on.
He waffles for a long moment, deciding exactly how to go about escaping, and Evan creeps toward the foot of the sleeping man. He gingerly places a foot on the couch's armrest, grabbing the back of the couch with his hands, and hoists himself onto the arm. He sways dangerously for a moment but regains his balance, staring worriedly at the man's sleeping face. He doesn't even sniff. All the better for Evan. Finally, something goes his way.
Standing on the back of the couch is trickier-he can't leverage well with the wall in his way, but he manages. He thinks that he can jump up to the edge of the hole, like from the other side. The problem is he can't bend so well with the wall right there, so he tries to turn sideways, with one foot in front of the other, planning to jump and twist at the top to grab the ledge.
Satisfied with that plan, he does so.
What he didn't plan for is that the couch was nowhere near as tall as the stack of junk he used to get inside the building; all he managed to do was hit his knees on the wall, hands nowhere close to the edge. Instead, his foot slips on the couch upon landing back on it, and he falls back-of-skull first onto the sleeping man.
The man, now awake, briefly panics and twists off of the couch, throwing Evan off of him. "What the fuck?!" the man yells hoarsely, and Evan is so stunned that he can't come up with a response. Frozen like a deer, he stares at the man's furious face.
"Uh." Evan says intelligently, trying to make 2+2 equal 4 again. The man's eyes scramble around wildly, but focus again on Evan's face with terrifying clarity. "What the fuck." the man says again, breathless, voice no longer angry. If anything, he sounds amazed. "Are you real?"
"No." Evan says automatically, not really processing what's being said.
The man sits up languidly, staring down at Evan with a mix of wonder and confusion. Then his face steels, and he frowns. "How did you get in here?"
Evan points above the couch. "I... climbed over that hole up there." Evan sits up and fidgets while the man stares at the now-obvious hole. "m'sorry." he adds when the silence starts to bother him.
The man sighs and looks off in a random direction. His eyebrows are furrowed deeply. "I wondered why it was so cold in here last night..."
The silence is heavy for a long moment. And then another. Evan picks at the fraying end of his shirt sleeve, avoiding eye contact. He's brought back into the moment when the man claps his hands together loudly. "Well then! My name's Sam. I'm probably going to be living here for a few months. Let's say we get some breakfast, yeah?"
Sam doesn't wait for a response as he cheerfully pushes himself up off the floor with surprising grace, and quickly turns toward the kitchen section of the room. Evan slowly rises and pads over quietly, trying to stay out of the stranger's line of sight. It doesn't work. His stomach growls loudly, and Evan flushes as Sam turns his head around to look at him.
"I haven't done any real grocery shopping since I moved in here this week." He says with a slightly apologetic look. "...so I hope you like toast."