Chapter Text
The boy is standing all alone on the dusty dim street, eyes scanning the dumpster in front of him with practiced ease that no doubt came with a lot of experience. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his thin and worn out jacket that hangs from his frame like it’s a few sizes too big for him. He stands on his toes, eyes diving deep into the sea of trash and he keeps scanning. He’s no doubt looking for something in particular and it seems like he really needs it, considering how long he’s been standing in front of that dumpster.
Food, he’s probably looking for something to eat. And he must be hungry because his hands are now out of his pockets and digging into the pile of trash, still standing on the tips of toes for better access. The soles of his shoes are ripped and throughoutfully unglued, too worn out to keep his feet warm in the freezing November temperatures. There’s no doubt that his entire wardrobe consists of things he found in a dumpster just like this one, discarded carelessly for rats to eat.
The boy almost climbs inside, leaning in as deep as he can to reach a plastic bag of what looks like fruits inside. He lets out a small triumphant sound and lands back on the ground, opening the bag and carefully going through all the contents. They mostly look rotten or half eaten but he manages to find a couple of good apples and an orange and wraps them up in a small napkin taken out of his pocket. Probably leaving them for later. The rest of the fruits are carefully folded inside the bag and taken with him.
The boy is obviously done sorting through the dumpster and moves a little to the right where a cardboard box is resting against the nearest building wall, creating something like a small shelter. There are cloths thrown at the bottom of the box that must be serving as a bed, not very warm one by the look of it. He slowly climbs inside, careful not to put too much pressure on the cardboard walls of his made up home and rummages through his stuff. It’s a tight fit, just big enough for the boy to get inside so he leaves his feet out while looking for whatever it is he’s trying to find.
The “it” turns out to be a small paper bag containing bread and something else that’s wrapped up in foil. He smiles to himself and pockets the paper bag, then climbs out of the box and stands up. His nose is rosy red from the cold and his cheeks are painted the same color as well. He shifts from one foot to another and rubs his hands together, trying to warm himself up against the chilly wind.
Despite his worn out and tired look the boy’s eyes are surprisingly bright and clear, a stark contrast with his sunken face and hunger-hallowed cheeks. It’s a rare occurrence, to witness life where hopelessness and desperation of living on the streets have left their traces and made the person rough at the edges and tough at heart. But not this boy.
This boy takes the food he has been carefully gathering over the past God knows how many days , grabs the blanket from his made up shelter along with a coat and walks slowly down the empty street. His brown curls bounce with every step, wind ruffling his matted unruly hair as if it’s trying to persuade him to go back to his cardboard home and stay there until it’s warm enough to go back out. But he keeps walking, taking a few turns until he’s near another dumpster. On the other side of it there’s a similar shelter built out of cardboard and plastic, but slightly smaller, slightly more ruined.
The boy ducks down and whispers something a couple of times, calling for whoever was sleeping in there. The someone doesn’t come out until the boy taps carefully at the ceiling of it , waking its resident from his afternoon nap. The old man that climbs out of there has one leg missing from knee down and he drags himself out with great difficulty, helped along by the boy.
They talk for a bit and then the boy flashes a smile that brightens up everything around him, reaching all the way up to heaven where the angel that has been observing him is blinded by its brightness. The boy carries the smile of a child, open and honest that confuses the angel so much it makes him want to come down to Earth and make the boy smile again just to make sure it’s possible.
The boy reaches inside his worn out jacket and pulls out the small package of food he’s been collecting, looking a little bit sadder now while pushing it into the older man’s arms.
“ You should eat, Doc, you’ve lost some weight “ the boy says and nods at the plastic bag, now in the older man’s hands. “ I’ve been savin’ some stuff just for ya “ the old man tears up and hugs the bag close to his chest, giving the boy a grateful look full of sadness.
“ I … I’ll probably be away for a while, Doc. “ the boy says apologetically “ But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine “ He gives Doc both the coat and the blanket he’s taken along with him and shakes his head when the old man protests.
“ No, you’ll need them more than I do “ the boy says, smiling sadly when the old man wraps the blanket around his bony shoulders “ I’m sorry I couldn’t get you any money for your medicine “ the smile is gone, replaced by pained expression of guilt and tears in his deep brown eyes “ I was gathering some plastic bottles to return , but they wouldn’t take ‘em so all I have is this “ he rummages in his left jacket pocket and takes out a few coins, carefully spilling them into the older man’s palm
“ I wish I could repay you” the man says and the boy smiles again, lighting up the entire street like a sun that has just risen from underneath the line of horizon.
“ You don’t have to. Just take care of yourself alright? There are apples and some cheese with bread inside “ the boy gestures towards the bag “ I won’t need this wherever I’m going so you should eat it instead “
The old man hugs him, a small human gesture in their inhuman world that makes the boy tear up a little. With one final kiss to the boy’s forehead he stands up from the freezing ground and walks down towards the busy highway.
Maybe if he just left without showing kindness, without bringing light where it didn’t belong and couldn’t possibly survive, maybe then the heaven would just let him leave. Maybe then it wouldn’t make any difference if the boy saw another day or not. Maybe he would leave quietly and disappear from the face of earth, having no one to miss or mourn him. Just another homeless kid dying on the street.
But his heart is big and wide open and the heaven knows that this kind of kindness is rare these days. It can’t be wasted. They can wait. They can wait.
|-/
The highway’s thunderous noise drowns every single thought in Josh’s head as he approaches it on wobbly legs that barely support his weight. He hasn’t eaten anything in the past few days, gathering the scrapes he found for the Doc who’s been pretty sick lately and needed all the food he could get. It’s a good thing, that his stomach is empty because if he had eaten it would all come back out at this very moment , as gut wrenching fear makes his hair stand. It’s too late to turn back and give up on his plan, having left the little amount things he owns back on the street where someone has probably trashes them already. He has no money and no food, no blanket after he gave it to Doc and absolutely no reason to stay.
To Josh it’s a win-win situation. If he died from impact he wouldn’t have to live in misery anymore, wouldn’t be hungry and cold anymore which was everything he wanted for a long time. If he survived the crash though, he’d end up in the hospital which meant a warm bed and food for a little while which was also good. All he had to do was walk out in front of a car and let God decide what happened to him next.
His knees hit the containment and Josh looks up at the cars speeding in front of him, his slim figure hidden in the shadow of the dusk that has fallen over the city. All he has to do is take two steps. Two steps and he’s free. Two steps and he’s gone. It just took a little effort to get there, a little courage to flex the muscles on his legs and take those two steps.
One.
Josh can feel the wind swirling around him, produced by the speeding cars he’s separated from by a few inches. He’s tired and hurt and just wants to feel something other than fear and helplessness for once. He’s in control. He can do this.
Two.
There’s a sound of wheels screeching against asphalt, followed by explosion of loud banging sounds and a moment of pure terror. His skin burns and his bones break, reminding Josh of the last time he broke his own foot just to end up in the hospital because the streets got too cold that winter. This time though he probably wouldn’t survive it. That doesn’t matter. It isn’t difficult leave. So Josh lets go.