Wave to the Sky (Omegaverse)

Chapter Three: Going Home

Alon's PoV

As the sun began its descent, signaling the end of another exhausting day, I gathered my paintings from the ground. Life as an aspiring artist was never easy, especially after losing Mom a few years back. Dad? Well, he showed me the door the day after I graduated high school.

Initially, I bounced between friends' couches for a place to sleep and did odd jobs to scrape by. Now, I reside in a cramped room in a decrepit apartment complex straight out of a horror movie — old, dim, dusty, with cobwebs hanging like eerie decorations and a scent that could wake your ancestors.

How did I stumble into painting, you wonder? That memory remains crystal clear. It was in high school during an art class when I first picked up a paintbrush. The assignment: paint a scene. I chose the ocean, perhaps influenced by Mom's tales of her homeland in the east, with its purported seven thousand islands and countless beaches. From that moment, I was captivated by the gentle touch of the brush and the alchemy of mixing paints on the palette. Painting became my lifeline, transporting me to a world far removed from my struggles. It saved me from descending into madness, offering solace and sanctuary.

Recognizing my passion, my former art teacher took me under his wing as his weekend assistant. It wasn't just about the money; he generously provided art supplies I could never afford on my own.

Making my way to the city center, where the grand church stood, I anticipated the free meal provided on Wednesdays. I may not be homeless per se, but survival is paramount. Every penny counts. Arthur, my friend, once floated a wild idea: find a wealthy alpha, have his child, and secure a better life. Was I truly desperate enough to entertain such a notion? These thoughts crashed over me like relentless waves.

Upon arrival, Sister Mary greeted me with her customary warmth. She was one of the few privy to my life story. In exchange for the food she graciously provided, I offered the church one of my paintings.

"Alon, right on time," Sister Mary greeted me, handing over one of the paper-wrapped sandwiches. "How's your day been?"

"Sold a couple of paintings today," I replied, accepting the food.

"God has blessed you with a gift for art. Things will get better with time."

"I hope so," I murmured, glancing at the church's weathered facade. Despite our differing beliefs, Sister Mary often invited me to Sunday service, and out of respect for her kindness, I attended, listening to the priest's sermons. Mom used to bring me here, believing in the omnipresence of God and the power of faith. Yet, when He took her from me, I began to question everything.

As the wind rustled through the trees, scattering withered leaves, Sister Mary remarked, "Fall is upon us." Autumn had always held a special place in my heart, a sentiment I'd shared with her.

"You once told me you preferred autumn over summer," she recalled, eyeing me curiously. "That's unusual for a kid, isn't it?"

"But I'm not a kid anymore," I chuckled softly.

"To me, you'll always be that boy who comes here faithfully," she said warmly. "Off you go now, it's getting dark. You know how it gets at night."

"Thank you for the meal," I said gratefully.

"Just a moment," she interjected, handing me another sandwich. "For breakfast tomorrow."

"I already have one," I protested.

"I know. Take it," she insisted, pressing it into my hand.

"Alright, if you say so," I relented, smiling at her kindness.

"Take care, dear," she waved as I walked away. The wind stirred again, leaves cascading around me. Why did I love autumn so much? Perhaps it was the sense of magic in the air, the anticipation of change.

As I reached the bus stop, my gaze fell on a familiar poster: SkyHaven's advertisement for Plush Toys, a set featuring animals and their adorable counterparts. Though I'd never seen them in stores, the elephant, with its parent-child resemblance, caught my eye. I couldn't help but wonder why they'd ceased production.

As the bus finally arrived, I boarded and deposited my fare before taking a seat. Peering out the window, I watched as the city came alive with the glow of evening lights. Restaurants bustled with diners, bars welcomed patrons, and weary workers made their way home. The city never slept.

Inside the bus, my fellow passengers appeared worn out, much like myself, from the day's toils. After a short ride, we arrived in the residential area, my neighborhood, often dubbed the city's "armpit" due to its poverty. Stepping off at the next stop, I walked down a familiar alley.

Children played in the fading light, oblivious to the encroaching darkness. "Hey!" I called out, prompting them to pause. "Time to head home."

"But we wanna play more!" protested one.

"Alright, but watch out for the Boogeyman," I warned, a hint of mischief in my tone. "He punishes bad kids. He hides in the dark and eats them!"

They scattered, and I chuckled to myself, hoping they'd heed my playful warning. Continuing on my way, I soon noticed footsteps trailing behind me. Initially dismissing them, I grew uneasy as they matched my pace unnervingly well.

Stopping abruptly, I strained to hear, but the footsteps ceased. I whirled around, finding no one in sight. Shaken, I resumed walking, only to hear the footsteps once more, echoing my own. "What the hell," I muttered, quickening my pace.

Suddenly, a touch on my back sent a shiver down my spine. Frozen in fear, I turned to confront my unseen pursuer. "W-who are you?" I stammered, heart pounding.

"I'm the Boogeyman," a male voice replied. "And you've been a naughty boy."

"I'm sorry," I replied, my heart still racing. I heard laughter, and relief flooded through me. "Alon! It's just me. Silly you."

Slowly, I turned to face the source of the voice, finding Arthur standing there, grinning mischievously.

"What the hell, Arthur!" I exclaimed, exasperated.

"You really are a scaredy-cat, aren't you?" Arthur teased. "You scare those kids with the Boogeyman, yet you're scared yourself."

"I'm not afraid of some imaginary entity," I retorted.

"Then why were you trembling a moment ago?

"Who wouldn't?" I argued. "Imagine walking alone, hearing footsteps, and finding no one there. It's unnerving."

"Fair point."

"Anyway, I thought you had to work at the bar tonight."

"Yeah, but I needed to grab something from home first," he explained.

"Ah, got it. Well, I better get going," I said, eager to put the eerie encounter behind me.

"See you," Arthur called as I headed off.