𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 | 𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙡

ii. all eyes on me- or not

𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐓 𝐖 𝐎

𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗒:
𝗆𝗒 17𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉~
𝖮𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗒𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗀𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇.

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞- 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 pavement were unsteady... unsure. He mixed in with the masses among the streets of Chicago, knocking shoulders with people passing by. The sensory overload of everything around him made his head hurt. He couldn't depict what was the sound of conversations around him or what was his inner voice.

His hand ran through his hair anxiously, fingers combing through the blond locks to try and straighten them out.

The boy comedically jumped as a man suddenly shot his hand out in front of him. The booming voice that followed only added to his inner chaos, "Hello, sir! What a fine day it is to buy yourself this portable, electric radio! It's the bee's knees!"

The blond male quickly shook his head, giving a polite smile to the salesman as he slowly walked around him.

"Hello! Miss—" The voice grew more distant as he sped away, glancing over his shoulder for a few moments unsurely.

The loud blaring sound of horns honking drew his attention back forward.

He nearly fell over as he staggered back from a black car that nearly ran him over. His wide, panicked eyes fell on the people that had been walking beside him who were all waiting on the corner of the street. He somehow ended up in the middle of the street between two corners, horns blaring at him to move out of the way.

The boy hurriedly began scrambling across the street to the sidewalk across from him, but he jumped out of the way of another car slamming on their breaks before they hit him. The horn that followed only urged him to get off the road faster.

Instant relief washed over him the moment he finally reached the sidewalk, holding his hand to his chest.

"Moron."

"I've got places to be, buddy."

A mother quietly coached her son watching him with curious eyes away, "He's crazy, Anthony. Let's go."

He could only ignore the annoying murmurs from the people who watched it happen as they walked past.

A defeated sigh left his mouth as he continued walking, how the frag was he supposed to f—

"Extra! Extra! Aliens crash down and cause havoc in the streets of Chicago!"

His eyes flew up, frantically searching for who was yelling. They landed on a teenage boy wearing shaggy, dirty clothing with a stack of newspapers tucked under his arm. He held one in the air, waving it around, "Get your papes!"

He hurried toward the newsboy, just barely catching his attention as he spun him around by the shoulder.

He gestured toward the paper.

The newsie understood what he meant, "Spot me two cents."

The boy faltered as he felt his pockets—he didn't have any money.