Out of the Closet

Two Years Later

Hey! So as you've (probably) guessed this chapter and the rest of the story will be taking place two years after the first chapter did. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
((Pic of Jay))
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~Nick~
I groan as I look at my remaining pile of cash. This wasn't even enough for a muffin at Starbucks, how was it going to pay for enough food? I place the money securely in my wallet, returning it to my backpack. Sighing, I slid down the alley wall till I was sitting on the dirty ground.

I've been living on the streets for exactly two years now. It hasn't been the best of times. Luckily, I managed to finish high school early, so I could focus on finding work now. It's obvious I need it.

I take off my hoodie, revealing my dirty white t-shirt, and putting the hoodie in my backpack. I put the backpack on and lean my head back against the brick, thankful for the beanie on my head for cushioning it slightly.

I groan and close my eyes, trying to catch a couple minutes of sleep while ignoring the angry growls from my too-thin body.

~Jay~
"See you later Jay!" My friends called, waving as I break away from our group. I wave back, and turn to decide the easiest way home. I was heading home early from my summer school course, so I had time to kill. I put my hand in the jacket pockets of my school's uniform and began walking down an old dark alley.

I realise this is exactly what my parents have always warned me of, saying muggers and rapists and homeless drunks would be here.

Unfortunately for them I don't really listen.

As I walk I hear a groan nearby, coming from the shadow behind a dumpster. I walk forward cautiously, assuming it was someone that's homeless, and peer into the dark to see the shape of a boy huddled in the dark.

"Hello?" I say, trying to sound non-threatening. He bolts up, holding his fists out, ready to fight. I back up, holding my hands up in surrender, lucky enough to be out of reach.

"Hey! Sorry! I just wanted to see if you were ok!" I said quickly, backing up to the wall across from him. He raises an eyebrow, surveying me and I finally see his appearence.

He had incredibly pale skin, and the dirty shirt and jeans didn't surprise me, or the ripped up shoes and backpack, but I didn't expect his hair. He had what the bullies at school would call 'emo' style hair, which I think was brown, but his beanie made it hard to tell.

"Yeah sure, it's not my first night on the streets, I'm not an idiot," he spat, and I shook my head quickly.

"That's not what I meant! You just sounded like you were hurt so I stopped to see what was going on," I explained hurridly. He rolls his eyes, lowering his fists.

"Thank you," I say, relaxing.

"I'm not putting trust in you, my gaurd's still up. I just know that I could take you in a fight," he said, pulling himself on top of the dumpster where he sat, looking down at me. I swallow nervously. The light from above the dumpster glinted off of his nose piercing, somehow making him seem more but less intimidating at the same time.

"So uh, what are you doing down here?" I ask nervously, walking towards him.

"Buying a suit for prom, what do you think?" He said sarcastically. I hold my hands up again.

"Hey, just asking!" I defended. He rolled his eyes, leaning back on the dumpster lid.

"What about you? What's a private school rich kid doing in a dirty alley?" He asked, nodding towards my uniform.

"Oh, I got out of summer school early and though I'd try a new route home," I said, gesturing towards the street that would lead to my house.

"Oh, summer school? Why are you going to summer school?" He asked, smirking.

"I'm taking a few senior classes so I can graduate after first semester," I explain, and he raises an eyebrow.

"You're a senior? That'd make you about my age then, I'm, 17," he said, thinking for a moment before saying his age.

"Yeah, I turned 17 a few months ago," I explain, and he laughs lightly.

"Well, I guess I can now say that I've met someone my age on the streets," he joked, and I rolled my eyes. We sit in silence until I hit my foorhead with my palm, throwing my brown hair out of my eyes, surprising him.

"I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Jay Parker," I introduce, holding a hand out. He stares at my hand with an eyebrow still raised, before leaning forward and taking my clean hand in his dirty scarred one.

"Nick," he said, smirking. I smile.

"Nice to meet you," I say, walking so I could lean against the dumpster he sat on. I look up, seeing the sun glaring down from between the buildings on either side of us.

"Would you happen to have the time?" Nick asked randomly, and I nod, looking down as I grab my phone out of my pocket.

"Yeah, it's 1:15," I say, glancing at the glowing screen.
He curses, jumping off the dumpster lid.

"What's wrong?" I ask, following him to the end of the alley.

"I'm late meeting someone," he said, looking for cars before darting across the busy street, me following close behind.

"Where are you meeting up?" I ask, curious. Nick answers my question by walking in the direction.
I smile as I catch up with him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I live this way genius," I say, smirking. He rolled his eyes, adjusting his backpack.

"'Course you do," he said, laughing to himself. I punch his arm lightly, shocked to see how scrawny it was for someone who talks so big.

"I do!" I insist, laughing. He laughs quietly.

"Yeah you probably do. I'm going towards those rich neighborhoods," he said, and I nod.

"Yeah, that'd be me," I say, slightly embarrassed. He shakes his head, smiling.

"You shouldn't hide that. You're lucky you have a house, let alone an expensive one," he said, and I wince.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just used to people trying to take advantage of my family for our money," I say quietly, surprising myself this time. Why am I telling this kid, this stranger, about my life? He shrugs.

"Hey I get it. I wasn't always on the streets you know," he said, and I stare in surprise.

Of course he wasn't, Idiot, I tell myself. He probably had some crazy financial issue and that's why he ended up here.

"Here's my turn," he said, stopping in front of an old alleyway. I look down suspiciously.

"Why are you going down there? There's no way in hell that's safe," I say, and he rolls his eyes yet again.

"You make it sound like I'm a child. Don't worry about me," he said, waving as he turned away.
I wave back and continue walking, reaching my house shortly after and immediately pulling out a sketchpad.

I begin drawing, sketching out the face of the boy I just met, knowing I will probably never see him again.