Chapter Text
“Whatcha doin’? Lying around in the streets. Not a good look, y’know? Ain’t your parents worried that their folk is, well, not home?” a smooth and mellowed voice rang in the quiet, cold air of the night, enveloping everyone inside it in a gentle embrace.
Silence hummed against their ears, filling their minds with unwelcome awkwardness.
“I work here,” the man adds.
It doesn’t add much, except for building onto the awkward atmosphere.
The owner of the voice looked down. His eyes were as dark as night, darker than obsidian even. They carried an almost purple undertone, hidden and shunned by his red iris who enraptured everyone’s attention with, for the better or the worse.
The socially acceptable action was to look away, or even walk away, but this weird man simply stared down at the unresponding recipient of his words.
Clamped limply between his lips was a smooth line of paper wrapping hiding some tobacco. His deft fingers removed the cig, and with a heave and a sigh, a smooth line of smoke fluttered out.
His red irises followed the crumpled figure on the floor, staring as the other raised his head, his silver hair fanning out.
Teal eyes stared up at black ones.
They locked eyes for a moment, reading each other’s expressions.
To be fair, there wasn’t much to read.
On one hand, there were hollow eyes with no light, but there was a sort of stare that you simply could not describe.
On the other hand, teal eyes held a defense that could withstand even the greatest of troops from America with a defiant gleam.
Teal eyes look away.
“...Nothing. Just hanging around,” the other murmured.
He heard a sigh before a tall figure plopped down onto the floor with him with a thud.
Silence befalls them again.
…
……..
“Interested in a cig?” Mr. Black Eyes, as per silvered hair’s labeling in his mind, offered his own.
As a response, he simply gave him a middle finger.
“...It’s fun,” Mr. Black Eyes adds.
The other rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and looking downwards. Silver hair shadowed his face from view.
The stranger would walk away if this was the usual talk of convincing ‘a kid’ to go home to his parents and not be out here on the streets at ungodly hours of the day, but Mr. Black Eyes would not.
Mr. Black Eyes simply continued to sit there.
In complete and utter silence.
In this empty street.
In their empty, empty city.
From that night on, Mr. Black Eyes would continue to bother him.
Every.
Single
Night.
Without fail.