[SDMN] Imagines

Wroetostar #2

It is a dusty town in the middle of the country founded by people who couldn't afford the luxury of cities or to be stalked by the police. 

Or, it's an upcoming town discovered by people who could get good bang for their already large bucks far from the crowded streets of dying dreams.

It depends on who you crossed walking down the street when you asked the question, "Where am I?" And who you crossed depends on what street you were walking down. Certain streets lend themselves to be crawling with boys and girls in ill-fitting, stained clothes. Other streets are teeming with men and women wearing bright colors that have been freshly cleaned and pressed.

Those streets are decorated with bright street lights, shiny cars, and buildings that grow each year like a blooming plant. Is it really that fancy? To someone like Vik, whose cracking sidewalks are illuminated by the flickering light of a dim bulb from above, yes. It is like a moth drawn to the singular light in a pitch black room. He would rather stay back in the dark with the creatures he knows, yet staring at the glitter can only keep his insatiable fascination fed for so much longer. With no one to stop him, Vik wanders down a couple blocks further than he should. The warm summer night air is irresistible. It keeps him out late. 

Each step makes something as simple as scuff marks on your shoes more of an eyesore in these parts. He keeps his hands in his pockets, trying ever so hard to stay small as his presence grows larger. Scrutinizing eyes constantly glance at Vik from unsettled residents who rarely have to acknowledge someone like him. To not entertain people's suspicions, Vik ignores the looks. Instead, his own muddy brown eyes are drawn upward. The lights shining through windows that cascade down the side of an apartment distract him. He is given a glimpse into their homes. People naturally move to either side of the boy as he continues to pay no attention to what's in front, but to what he can catch a peek of through the windows.

Until bam.

A collision sends Vik and one other boy tumbling to the ground. Their bodies thump as they meet the concrete. The crash sends a pulse of pain through Vik's chest. Despite the pain, he manages to keep his groans to himself. Vik looks to his left to see who had fallen with him. Simultaneously, their eyes met merely inches apart. As if on cue, they both scrambled away from each other. Their gazes are paralyzed with fear by the uncertainty of what vengeful potential the other might have. 

Vik sees a pale boy his age swaddled in a blue sweater with the collar of a pink shirt poking out. His top is complimented by his muted blue eyes. His shaggy blonde hair completes the "uptown prep" package. The stranger's body shivers at the idea he is about to be punched in the head for running into someone dressed as rough and dirty as Vik. He leans back in anticipation, knees pulled to his chest. Vik sits in the same position in fear of the exact same fate. After all, he's the one on the wrong turf. When they both realize the other is scared just like them, the tension in their shoulders drop. There is no threat to be found.

"I'm sorry." Vik speaks first to not appear rude. "I shoulda been lookin' where I was goin'." His sight darts to the ground before going back to whom he was talking with.

"No, I should've been. It's my fault." The blonde shifts the fault onto himself.

"I hope I didn't scuff up your pants too bad." The boy examines his khakis. He stands up and cranes his head to get a better look at the back. Vik, still sitting on the ground, watches him barely dust off his pants. 

"Eh, who really cares?" He extends a hand to Vik. "I'm Harry by the way." With little hesitation, Vik accepts the help back to his feet. 

"Thanks. My name's Vik." A cheeky grin poked the corner of Vik's mouth.