Midnight wanderer

Chapter 1 : The boy

Leaning against the wall of an abandon bowling ally he lifted his foot to butt his cigarette against his shoe. Throwing it to the ground as he continued to walk down the street. Crossing the street without bothering to wait for the green light, not many cars were out at this time. His hair pulled back in a loose, messy bun, eyes blacked from sleep or lack of. His hands dug deep into his pockets as he walked along the downtown roads. His thoughts were the only thing to keep him company on his adventure. The streets were his friends, each held a different memory and contained a special connection to Jake. His heart was splattered into these streets like the oil that resided there unable to ever fully be cleaned up. He took a left down the ally by his local restaurant, the only one open at this time. They were open for the bar rush usually at around 3 but Jake would stop around 2:30 every night for a taro bubble tea. Half the time he wouldn't even have to pay because he came in so often and the workers became some of the only people he would see in a day. At the end of the ally lied a set of stairs to the right and a gate to the left, he took the stairs up to the building backside. Hopped the barrier and climbed on top of the building. It was wide and at the end lie a small hallway like section, he walked to the end and looked over the edge. From here Jake could see most all of the downtown area and across the ocean that lie beyond the buildings. His  hoodie was dampened on the hood and shoulders from a light sprinkle of rain, and the bottom cuffs of his acid-washed jeans were tattered and and ripped because they were just a bit too big and hung over his off-grey converse. He climbed up and sat on the edge, pulled out his pack of cigarettes and sparked one. As he sat on the edge and looked down he thought if he just let go, it would all be over. Nothing left of him but memories and a gravestone with a cheesy quote that relates a bit to him. Would it even relate to him, he thought. No one knows the real him, they all just know this fake exterior that  he has created to please the people around him into thinking he is happy. Truly on the inside all he thinks about is death and despair, the hate that is so plainly obvious in the world. As he finished the cigarette, he flicked it of the building and watched it fall to the ground, a passing car crushed it into the cement. The only thought on his mind, "What if that was me?", he slid down the piping that carried the water off the roof and continued with his walk. The wind blew cold against his face, 50 stories high, the tallest hotel in town he sat on the roof in his usual spot so if someone by chance did come up he would be unseen. He pulled the book from his bag that he had been reading, put his headphones in and got into his space.