"Living in continual chaos is exhausting, frightening. The catch is that it's also very addictive." -Lorna Luft

Murky clouds littered busy skies, flouncing around in the polluted air like sleepy shadows suffocating the dreary city bustling below. The haunted streets were crowded, tightly packed with fuming natives all choking on the odorous sewage flooding in from the pipes underneath their feet, as they scurried by like mice avoiding the expected downpour. A rainstorm was coming tonight, as predicted on the screens displayed through the glass of forgotten stores. Rain, what a deceitful bastard it was. Instead of crystal clear water hailing from above, only rust colored droplets of chemical after taste drenched the wretched conurbation. Why people prayed for this shit was a mystery; no one here thought it was any blessing.

Lazily smoking, the cigarette now burning away in between his fingers, a shrouded teen leaned back and blew out his own tainted vapor. His oversized black sweatshirt was roughed up with patches missing from the tell-tale signs of loose strings knotted at the ends, barely managing to stay a part of his ensemble. Reaching into his pockets he pulled another cig, this one mildly crumpled, and lit it with the metal lighter wrapped inside his bruised palm. Dropping the old ash-ridden stump, the boy smothered it with the heel of his boot, as he inhaled deeply with his new cancer stick.

Exhaling once more, he turned his reddened gaze to the roads, noticing fewer people passing by. Sighing he slumped down, feeling the brick wall behind him chafe his back as sat down on the unforgiving concrete floor. It had been a long day for the teen, mostly stealing food fresh from the trash cans, and wandering in the alleys to hide from any suspicious do-good cop.

Fucking pathetic.

Here he was seventeen years old, and sleeping on park benches and dining on literal garbage to survive. Most kids his age would be tucked in by their parents all snug and warm under a mountain of blankets, bellies full from home cooked meals. But not him. No, Elliot was a street rat, constantly on the brink of dying either from the hands of crazy psychos, food poisoned waste, or whatever possible messed up crime would follow and snatch him. Puffing out the last of his cig, he dragged the tip across the ground before tossing the bud somewhere onto the sidewalk. The rain had started to come now, pelting the top of his hood soaking him to the bone.

'Man, he hated his life,' he thought while shivering, his body giving into exhaustion.

But unbeknownst to Elliot another was about to enter the scene this very moment, and would change everything the rebellious teen had ever known about what it meant to be alive. And it would all start because of his last smoke.

Joey was a sweet boy, with golden curls cascading down the sides of cherubic cheeks, and sparkling green eyes that dazzled even the most stoic of hearts. He was adored, even cherished by all who ever came across him, many whispering about how he was such a lovely child, a literal miracle born to the Earth. However, despite all the gracious gifts and sugary compliments there was a curse to him, as he was very ill, birthed too weak to be free on his own. Constantly relying on the kindness of others to aid ailing existence.

Many years had passed and Joey would only see people dressed in white coats as they pricked and prodded his body. He was subjected to multiple tests and examinations, all trying to determine if he would ever be fit enough to leave the hospital. And most times moments spent in the outside world were suddenly stripped away with the dial to the local emergency room, and he would say goodbye to flowers and ponds, and hello to sterile walls and padded beds.

But not today! No, he was allowed to go and take a brisk walk around the city as long as he was back by the promised time he gave his doctor. That meant he had exactly one hour to experience a normal kid's day, and it was going to be wonderful!

Finally free, Joey skipped passing by the shops, his medical mask never slipping off his face as he looked out in amazement of the lives of those around him. Dressed heavily in a neon yellow rain jacket with his matching hat, the boy was making his way back to the hospital, his time up, when a spark flicked past him, leading his view to a huddled figure drowning in the cold shower.

Blinking through his thick eyelashes Joey hesitantly tiptoed towards the other with his guard up. His mother always warned him about the dangers in town, and the deceitful people in it. She told him tales of kidnappers, and drug lords, who would sell his body or kill him if it meant they would make a solid buck. But this person looked like a kid, like him, but with mangy black hair, and dirty clothes.

Straightening his hat, the sunshine-y boy crouched quietly in front of the other, the drops of rain bouncing off the rim of the plastic cover suit. The doused teen hadn't moved, possibly not even awake as his eyes were shut and his head had lulled to the side. Joey cautiously patted the other's thigh, feeling the stinging drips on his hands as he continued to shake the sleeping body.

Suddenly the stranger jolted awake, violently shoving Joey to the ground and straddling his smaller form with a pocket knife pressed against his pale throat.

Fear began to overtake the restrained boy's mind as he started to hyperventilate, his heart thumping sporadically. The disheveled teen looked shocked and put his weapon down realizing the predicament before launching himself away.

"Wha-Who are you?!" The other said as he frantically backed towards the wall alarmed.

Joey pushed himself up in a sitting position, his palm flying over onto his chest as he heaved for a steady breath. His thoughts were scattered as he frightfully met the ruby gaze of his attacker. Observing the other better now Joey saw a scared kid, not at all like the monsters in his mom's stories. Lowering his sight just a couple inches to stare non threateningly into the soaked hoodie, Joey shyly responded, twiddling his thumbs delicately in between his buttons.

"I'm Joey." He whispered, quickly pulling off his mask and dusting off his soiled jacket.

"Who are you?"

What the fuck is happening? Elliot was beyond confused, his head was frazzled to the point it was about to short circuit as he slack jawed stared at the twiggy kid who was fidgeting with his jacket buttons. The rain was beginning to come down harder, now biting into him with painful jabs made from cloud tears. Seeing that he had no other option but to respond, the boy opened his mouth only to shut it right away. He was freaking worried, sweat building heavily on his brow. Was he about to be sent to Juvie? Was this twerp asking for his identity just to lock him up? He nearly just slashed the kid's throat out with his knife, and no judge would be stupid enough to believe him if he said it was an accident because the brat unintentionally jumped him. Who would trust a sewer orphan? Plus being jailed would suck major balls. And to top it off 'his victim' had that 'I come from money' look. Shit!

Trying again the teen begrudgingly answered.

"Elliot."

"Nice to meet you Elliot," Joey replied, sticking his arm out to the other for some type of a greeting.

"Yeah, sure."

He didn't dare try to shake the kid's awaiting hand, no way. Pretty boy looked like a walking lawsuit with his 'Curious George' cosplay and big ol' doe eyes. And why was this rich-y here? People looking like that stayed away from the slums and ghettos, thinking that every one of the locals was some thieving criminal about to pop their tires or corrupt their little angels with hard drugs.

"Um, I forgive you."

Elliot gave him a questioning look.

The younger shrunk back as he spoke, gripping the edge of his sleeves a bit too tightly.

"You know, for almost stabbing me."

"I didn't 'almost stab' you. It was self defense!" Elliot barked immediately regretting it as the kid ducked away like he was about to be hit.

"Sorry!" The curly haired boy mumbled, "Please don't be mad at me."

Relaxing Elliot ran his hand through his fringe, the storm growing more intense around them.

"Whatever," He huffed, "Anyway, what's a nice brat like you doing in a place like this?"

Damn he wished he retracted his statement as he saw a light flicker in the kid's jade puppy dog eyes.

This 'Joey' seemed to cheer up a bit as he rambled, "Oh! Well today I was feeling better and I had asked if I could go outside! See, usually I have to stay inside all the time, because the doctor's keep telling me that my body is too weak for the outdoors. Something about viruses? But I got to be free anyway, so I started wandering around and then I ended up here. Well not here-here, but I saw you and you didn't look so good."

He flinched as the taller teen gave him a pointed glare, "Well you didn't look bad, just not healthy. I was just checking on you even though I didn't have to, but I felt bad just leaving you there because it didn't seem nice to not stop by. I kinda thought you were sick or something? And um you were just sleeping,, then pinning me down, But that was my fault, sorry, um and we're back to the present? Did that make… sense?"

As the motor mouth finished his story, Elliot was in a stupor. Did he really look that bad? He discreetly examined his scuffed up shoes, stained jeans, and ripped sweatshirt. So maybe he looked pretty down in the dumps, but this twerp thought he had to wellness check him? The fuck? What type of boy scout bullshit was this? And how long was he going to have to sit through this monologue?

"Jesus. I only asked why you're here."

"Sorry." Joey apologized, "I don't paraphrase very well. Sorry if it bothered you that I was talking so much!"

"Stop saying you're sorry." Elliot groaned as he rubbed his temples, "You're giving me a headache!"

"Sorry! Wait, I didn't mean to say that! Sorry! Oh no."

Oh no?

Joey had his fist over his nose while something began to ooze from between his fingers.

Was that blood?

"Shit! Are you okay?"

Practically jumping forwards Elliot was inches away from the other, the smaller boy began to mewl like he was in pain. Getting a better look Elliot gasped, feeling his stomach churn. Blood was dripping straight out of the kid's nose like fucking Niagara Falls, staining his once fluorescent clothing with muted spots of brown.

"I… need to go… the hospital." Joey whined before his emerald irises rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

Thunder was now screaming in the distance as Elliot panicked over the unconscious boy. He couldn't leave him here because that would probably mark him down as some type of murder, and a dead brat in the middle of an alley would become some nation wide horror story. That was not something Elliot planned to go down for. Hell no.

"Hey, wake up. Kid!" Elliot hissed out as he shook the smaller teen's body. To his horror Joey's skin felt like pure ice as he slapped at the once rosy cheeks. Having no choice he heaved the kid up over his shoulder and ran. The streets were empty of pedestrians as he sprinted down each intersection, weaving in and out of passing cars.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You better not be dead! I'm way too young for prison!"

The hospital was just a head as Elliot sucked in his last breath and shot them both through the doors face first onto the linoleum floor. His forehead was excruciatingly bruised as made sure the other was not impacted by their intense fall.

"He needs help! Somebody help!" He yelled through his sore lungs as nurses came sliding towards them papers flying off the desks.

Completely drenched and covered in blood Elliot blacked out as he barely saw someone force the younger boy out of his arms. Not even sure what he was saying as his fingers were pried off of the kid, he gave up to his fatigue, and dove into the deepest caverns of his mind restlessly.

Dammit, he shouldn't have smoked that second cig.