Chapter Text
The night was peaceful, still. Smoke stood from his mouth, even in the breaks where he didn’t have a cigarette between his teeth, white in the sharp air. A few of the windows in the yard were lit up, someone was talking in the apartment across from the fence where he sat.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, a lighter too, and shielded the flame with a hand. He was big-boned, and the sweathers and jackets could give an illusion of him being chubby, but the flame lit up his face, casting deep shadows, and the contours of his bones were clearly visible under the brown skin.
Then the cigarette caught fire, and he let go of the flame and let the darkness return, save for the small glowing dot. He inhaled deeply and puffed out smoke, then watching the tendrils curl towards the sky with an almost peaceful expression.
The voices in the apartment got louder, and he hesitated for a moment before sliding down from the fence and leaning up against it instead, a little less visible from the window, to avoid disgruntled middle class people calling the police on him because private property or whatever.
The voices turned into yelling. He cast a half-interested glance at the window, then made a mental shrug and concentrated on his cigarette.
A hard, dull thump made him look up again. He pulled himself a bit further into the shadows of the fence.
Silence. Then, a sharp slapping noise. A door was opened somewhere. He crouched down and butted his cigarette on the ground, stepping on the glow. A click, and the door above the small staircase was shut open, enabling him to hear what was said.
“… fucking little ungrateful- you come here and act like we’re gonna cradle to you, you little…”
A figure was thrown down the stairs by a tall, backlit person. The small one tumbled down the four stone steps and hit the ground below with hands and knees. Beside them fell an object, making a sharp, melodic sound.
“Yeah THAT’S right, get OUT of my home.” The figure turned, the door was shut.
He stood still, breathing as quietly as possible, watching the child in front of him. They couldn’t be much more than twelve. They turned around and sat against the last step, knees against their chest, rubbing their palm.
For a while, they just sat.
“Wow,” he said, making the kid look up with a jerk. “ That was … something.” He picked up the dead cigarette and looked at it, there was still a little left. The kid was staring at him, wide eyed. He put up his hands. “Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you. You seem like you’ve been through plenty today.” He cast a glance at the door.
The kid was still staring at him, though they had stopped clawing at the ground behind them. Now they were holding their hand to their chest, rubbing it against their striped sweater.
He hesitated for a moment. “Here, let me look at that.”
He kneeled down and reached out a hand. The kid pulled back, staring. Then, slowly, they reached out their light brown palm and let him take it between his darker hands. He reached into a pocket, pulled out a slightly gross handkierchief, found a clean corner and licked it, then carefully cleaned dirt and tiny pebbles out of the child’s hand. They breathed sharply through their teeth, but didn’t cry or complain or pull away.
They extended their other hand by themself, and he took it and cleaned it as well.
He looked up at the apartment they had come from. There was still light anf muffled voices.
“Are you planning on going up there again?” He asked.
The kid looked down, pulling their hand back, picking up a stick and scratching the ground with it. Finally, they shook their head.
“‘Kay then, I’d suggest we get moving then, before that dude comes back to throw you down more stairs.” He shook the handkierchief and put it back in his pocket. Them he extended a hand. “C'mon, kiddo, I know someone who might offer us some scraps if we make particularly big puppy eyes.” He grinned widely.
The kid looked at his hand. Then, still with the stick in the other, they took it in a light grip and let him pull them off.
“So … you don’t talk, then?”
The kid looked down.
“I’ll take that as a no, then. Anyway, they call me Sans. And hey. Don’t worry. I have made it out here so far, you should be able to manahe just fine.” He grinned even wider, and after a moment, the kid gave him a meek smile back.
They exited the yard a few minutes before the back door was opened again, and a man searched the night with his eyes, then picked something up and went inside again.