Stray

Chapter One

Worick sighed as he puffed out a dull cloud of smoke, slowly pulling the cigarette away from his slightly parted lips. He was gazing out of his apartment window, his good eye narrowed to protect it from the blinding flash of the city's lights. He hated nights like this, sitting alone and staring at nothing with only his memories to keep him company, but it was slowly becoming a normal routine for the blonde.
He did have some friends in New York, but he didn't exactly trust or feel able to confide in them all that much. Besides, he'd been dealing with difficult things by himself all his life, so he was pretty used to it by now.
But, as many people will tell you, such an act will become tiresome over time.

He pressed the end of the cigarette down into a nearby ash tray, deciding to go for a walk, wanting to distract his wandering mind with the hustle and bustle of the busy streets.
At first all the noise and blaring lights hit him like a train, causing Worick to lower his head and squint his eye as he pushed through the crowds. Like always he got used to it, though, the familiar atmosphere soon swallowing him up.

It wasn't the greatest coping strategy, but at least it seemed to be working for now. One day he'd have to confront the blur of emotions plaguing his mind and let someone in. Distractions didn't last forever.

Worick just wasn't expecting to find his salvation this very night, curled up in the gutter.

He had been heading home when he'd first heard the whimpering, a pained and mournful sound that bounced eerily off of the walls in a morbid drone. Worick turned and stepped toward the narrow passage, good eye looking around in slow suspicion. "Hello?" He called out.
The only response he received was the sound of his voice echoing around in time with the whimpers.
Despite the hairs rising up on the back of his neck and practically every cell in his body telling him to just turn away and hurry home; Worick found himself advancing into the alley, and it didn't take him long to locate the source of the strange noises.

It was a boy - or so he assumed, it was awfully dark in this alley - curled up tightly in the fetal position as if he were trying to protect himself from invisible blows. "Are you alright?" The man asked, although he could already tell that the answer was definitely a no.
The poor kid was lying right in the middle of a large puddle, probably because he'd been thrown into it by someone during his beating and simply didn't have the strength to move. "Here, let me help you.." The blonde said softly, reaching out to the younger. As soon as he was touched he completely freaked out. Worick saw his eyes glint as they snapped open in terror, his hand being smacked away in panic as the poor thing desperately tried to scramble to his feet. "Hey, it's okay." Worick said in the calmest voice he could muster, taking a few steps back and holding his hands up defensively. "I'm just trying to help. I'm not gonna hurt ya."
His attempts didn't seem to calm the other at all, who reached down to grab what looked like a switchblade, tucked inside of his waistband.
But Worick wasn't worried. He could see that the boy could barely stand up, let alone swing a knife at him sufficiently enough to cause damage.

"Now, now. There's no need for that. Let's just calm down, alright?" The older soothed, stepping forward again and prying the knife from his grasp. It made a gentle 'sploosh' sound as it dropped straight down into the deep puddle below.
Usually in these kinds of situations Worick would just call the police and let them handle it, but something about the boy made him feel compelled not to separate with him just yet. And besides, the kid looked absolutely petrified, the last thing he needed now was a lot of commotion and interrogation.

As expected he began to panic and struggle when Worick tried to help him walk out of the alley, but the older man kept a strong and stubborn grip on him and eventually he calmed down, perhaps accepting that Worick was trying to help.
He tried to avoid the crowded areas of the city now, sticking to the shadows. Worick didn't want anyone seeing him dragging the boy along like this and get the wrong idea.
Worick was so focused on being inconspicuous, that he didn't even realise the stranger had collapsed in his arms until they reached his block of apartments.
Oh, Shit.
How was he supposed to haul an unconscious teenager into the elevator without seeming sketchy as hell?