AN: A slightly more optimistic chapter just in time for Christmas. Merry Christmas everybody xx

Chapter 6

London, UK, 1988

When he woke up in the morning, he felt satisfyingly full.

Lesley brought back nearly everything she could find in short notice. Or at least, that's what it looked like to him – there was half a loaf of bread, a small piece of pie, salad leftovers, some cheese and what looked like ham. He didn't mind; he ate it all hungrily, save for a slice of bread, which he shoved into his backpack for the next day.

Both Greg and Lesley sat with him as he ate; apparently, Greg was too drunk to move on his own once he sat down – "Which is why," Lesley told him, "He shouldn't drink this much! He always falls asleep in the first place he sits." – and Lesley wasn't going to bring him up all by herself. Once he finished eating, Kevin offered to help, but she just smiled and ruffled his hair.

A while after she left them there and went back to her apartment, both Kevin and Greg fell asleep on the floor. He dreamed about ice cream and chips that night.

Not that he cared when he woke up to find himself alone on the floor. It was early morning and he was still full, so even the tempting dreams he had couldn't bring his mood down. For the first time since he left Manchester, he felt good.

He glanced outside, saw that the streets were still empty, cuddled on the floor and fell back to sleep.

In hindsight, he realized he should've left the building while it was still quiet and empty outside.

When he was awoken again, the sun was high up in the sky, the streets were full of people hurrying to their workplaces, and he was surrounded by several people – two of whom were boys roughly his age – who were arguing what should be done with him.

"Maybe he came here by mistake," Said one old-looking lady. She had a long, freckled nose and small green eyes, which, at that moment, were focused on him. "These buildings all look the same."

A man standing on her right shook his head. He was squinting at Kevin through his glasses and holding a small briefcase. "No, no," He said. "Never seen him 'round here."

"And you know everyone who lives here?" Challenged the lady.

"It happened to Jonathan once," Piped another woman. She patted one of the boys' heads. "Isn't that right, Johnny?" She asked affectionately, messing the boy's hair in the process.

Jonathan nodded, but the man spoke again. "Something doesn't seem right about him," He said. He clearly didn't like Kevin, which made him wonder how much he could have possibly seen about him to be able to dislike him.

"Look, mum, he's waking up!" The other boy pulled his mother's sleeve, making her turn to look at Kevin.

"Who are you?" Asked the man, looking down at him disapprovingly.

"I'm-" He started, but was cut off by the old lady.

"Don't scare him!" She scolded the man, not even looking at Kevin.

"Don't tell me what to do!" He growled back at her. "What if he's a thief? Maybe you want your apartment emptied by him and his friends-"

"He's just a boy!"

The two carried on fighting, and the rest of the people turned back to Kevin, ignoring them. He sat on the floor, holding his backpack pressed to his chest, and looked back at the people surrounding him. The man and the old lady were now arguing as to whether he could be a thief and whether he carried any diseases like the stray dogs running around. The others were looking at him, some curious, some suspicious and some simply pitiful.

He took a deep breath to stop himself from crying and then spoke.

"I'm Kevin," He managed, his voice coming out shaky and quiet. "I don't have any friends. I'm from Manchester."

"Are you lost, son?" Another man asked sympathetically.

He nodded. "I think." He sniffed. He couldn't see Lesley or Greg anywhere.

"Where are your parents?" Jonathan asked curiously, eyeing him like he was a strange animal.

"Be polite, Jonathan," His mother scolded. She looked at Kevin once again, smiling at him in a way that was supposed to be reassuring but was, in fact, creepy. "Can we take you somewhere?" She offered.

He shuffled up to his feet, backing against the wall behind him. "No," He said, his voice still shaky. He would've done anything in that moment to get his confidence back. "Just… let me go." He sniffed again and then managed to whisper, "Please."

Then the people in front of him split into two groups, allowing him a quick, safe passage outside. He didn't stop to wonder why they let him go, but slowly walked away, holding his backpack to his chest as tightly as he could. He'd just made it past the last of the group when he heard someone moving behind him.

"There," The younger boy, Jonathan's brother, moved past him and handed him a wrapped sandwich. He smiled at him shyly. "You want it?"

Kevin hesitated, but seeing the boy's smile, he nodded and reached out to him. "Thank you," He said quietly.

The boy's smile widened. "Sure," He said. As soon as Kevin took the sandwich, he closed his own backpack and turned to his mother. "Are we going?"

She was still looking at Kevin, looking a bit confused. "Yes," She said, nodding slowly.

He shoved the sandwich into his backpack and then walked outside, constantly aware of the eyes still staring at his back. As soon as he was out of sight, he started running, hoping none of the watchers would bother following him to see which guess about him was right.

It was lunchtime before he stopped moving. Even though at some point he knew he wasn't chased – or, even if he was chased, he'd lost them long ago – he couldn't help but keep moving. It was the fear running through him, urging him to continue forward, until he was absolutely certain no one could possibly track him down.

He sat down on the sidewalk, took the sandwich out and started eating. Looking around him, he spotted what looked like a hotel, as well as a couple of cafes. The streets were busy – busier than he expected at that time of day – but he was certain he was small enough to find a way to get to where the food was.

Maybe he wasn't as big as the other kids, or as strong as the other kids, or as experienced as they were. But he was young and thin, and maybe that would give him the advantage he needed. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he needed to find an advantage, and fast.

And for the first time since leaving Manchester, he was optimistic enough to find a possible one. Even after what happened that morning in the building.

That night he snuck into another building.

As he stood outside that afternoon, his mind played back the events of the day before. He ended up surrounded by working-class families, and for some reason, they seemed to be the most sympathetic of the people he'd met so far. He wasn't entirely sure why; but at this point, he hardly cared.

So that night he decided to put it to the test. He found another working-class neighbourhood and snuck into another building which, judging by the mailboxes, seemed to mostly contain families. Then he sat down by the stairs, holding his backpack to his chest and keeping his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

He tried to remain awake, but it was dark and cosy, and he was surprisingly full after whatever little food he managed to get that day and the remains from the night before. Not to mention how tired he was after that day…

Slowly, he fell back to sleep.

No one woke him up that night. No young, slightly drunk people coming back from a night out. He wasn't awoken by anyone the next morning, either; he was still on his own, lying curled by the stairs with his backpack pressed to him. The sun was slowly rising outside, and even though he briefly considered staying, just for the chance of getting food, he decided he'd had enough the morning before. So as soon as he woke up, he got up and left the building.

As he walked down the street, looking for a small market where he could get something to eat, he compared the two nights. There had to have been something different the first night; it couldn't have been pure luck.

Could it have been?

No. He had to believe it was more than just luck, or he'd lose whatever hope he had of finding a method to survive. It couldn't be random. It couldn't be just luck. There had to be something.

He stopped in front of a small marketplace. A couple walked outside as he did, both holding paper bags. In one of the bags he spotted a couple of beautiful red apples that made him hungry. In another he saw a bottle of sparkling water. They were talking to one another, and the woman laughed quietly at whatever the man said before they stepped outside. The sight brought tears to his eyes.

Looking at them, he couldn't help but remember his parents. They looked like that. Occasionally, when they all went shopping for groceries together. His parents would walk around, picking up whatever they needed, while he would drop sweets into the cart. His mum would always laugh and his dad would decide whether to get it or not. Until the day they stopped with the experiments, that is; from that they on, they always bought him everything he asked for.

He wondered whether his parents were like that somewhere in that moment. Whether they were walking down a street somewhere, holding hands and talking about their plans for the future. He could almost see them like that, in a small apartment, bringing in the groceries they bought. Enjoying their freedom, now that they didn't have him to deal with anymore.

He bit his lower lip, took a deep breath and walked into the market. He couldn't let them have that effect on him. Not anymore.

As quickly as he could, he picked up a couple of apples, a bottle of water and a few sweets. A warm loaf of bread also found its way to his shopping basket, but he didn't care. It was so warm it was clearly straight out of the oven. He couldn't say no to it.

Behind the counter was an elderly man who smiled at him. "Anything else?" He asked, looking at the things Kevin picked up. Kevin shook his head shyly. "Picking up things for your mum, eh, son?"

He started shaking his head, but then changed his mind and nodded.

The man nodded briefly in understanding and smiled at Kevin again. "Are you new here?" He continued.

He nodded again. "Sort of," He said, his voice quiet and shy.

"There you go, son," He said, handing him a paper bag with everything Kevin picked up. "You'll see, it's a good neighbourhood. I'm sure you're going to be happy here."

He placed a fifty-pounds note and placed it on the counter. Then, he looked down at the bag, to make sure everything he chose was in the bag. He was surprised to find an extra loaf of bread and a chocolate bar inside as well. Carefully, he picked them up and placed them back on the counter.

"These aren't… I didn't…" He tried nervously, not wanting the old man to think he tried to steal them.

The man placed the change back on the counter and gave Kevin another smile. "A welcome gift," He said, patting the change. "Welcome to the neighbourhood."

He blinked back tears of gratitude. "Thank you," He whispered shakily. He shoved everything but a half a loaf of bread into his backpack and then walked outside, nibbling on the bread.

As he walked down the street again, looking for a small restaurant or hotel to stay by for the rest of the day, he thought about the old man. There was something similar between him and Lesley; he was sure of it. They both worked to make a living, but so did the people in the building where he spent the night. Was it possible that they both knew how he felt?

He shook that thought off. Even if that was the reason they were kind to him, it was impossible to use it in the future. He couldn't track down every single person who once lived on the streets. It was impossible.

What else could it possibly be?

He shook his head. There were more important things to focus on. He settled by the back door of a small hotel, watching a nearby café as he did. He'd have to find a way to figure it out, though; his survival might just depend on it.

A tiny smile appeared on his lips as he realised what he'd have to do next. He'd have to experiment.

Like father like son, He thought, somewhat bitterly. If there was anything he learned from his parents, it was the power of experiments.