torn // muke

1

| Luke |

I nodded in approval as a man handed me $500. I shoved the money in my pocket, and walked away, pulling out a cigarette and my lighter.

I walked over to the bench in the subway, and sat down, pulling the money right back out. I folded the hundreds in a way that made them thin enough to slide into my phone case, leaving me with no worries of them falling out.

I noticed someone sit down on the opposite side of the bench. I looked over and he had black hair, and and a Metallica shirt.

"Are you from around here?" I asked, and he shook his head. "I'm from New York, but I needed to get away." He said, and I nodded, completely understanding.

"How did you end up all the way in Australia?" I asked, and he shrugged. "I have family here. I'm not gonna go see them or anything, but if they haven't left yet, I figured it might be alright, and I should give it a try." He told me.

"I'm Luke." I said.

"Michael." He replied.

I looked around the empty subway station, trying to think if I should say anything else.

"Waiting on a train?" He asked, and the obvious answer would be yes, but I'm really not. "No. I'm just trying to make a living." I said, and took another puff from my cigarette.

"Why here?" He asked, and I looked over at him and smirked. "Because. Late at night you get a bunch of drunk horny people through here." I said, and he scooted over, and took the cigarette from between my fingers, throwing it on the ground, and putting it out with his torn up converse.

"That's probably gonna get you a lot of money, but does it really make you happy?" He asked, and smirked back.

I rolled my eyes and looked ahead. "No, but not everyone can live the life they dreamed of. Dreams don't always come true, and you just have to work with it. Maybe one day, my Prince Charming will come sweep me off of my feet, but until then, I've got the best paying job that I can get." I said, and pulled out another cigarette.

"Is it really that great?" He asked, with a look that told me he didn't like what I was doing.

"Why should I tell you about it? You're a stranger. We don't know each other." I said, and he shrugged. "Maybe that's the point."

I looked at him for a few more seconds before I sighed. "It pays the rent." I said, and he nodded, somehow understanding.

"Do they just leave afterwards? Doesn't it ever get lonely?" He asked, and I nodded. "Yeah. They get what they want, and leave. Most of the time, unless I'm with a girl, they usually just use me and then leave right after, not even giving me anything besides money. They don't care if it hurts. I've had a line of guys just use me one after the other. It didn't feel good like it should've. But I got 35 hundred that night, so it was worth it I guess." I said.

He took the newly lit cigarette from my fingers, and put that one out also.

"Dude." I said, and looked over at him.

He shrugged, and laughed a little. "I'm not gonna sit here and watch you kill yourself." He told me, and I looked up at him. That's the first meaningful thing I've heard anyone say to me, and I barely know this guy.

"Why do you care?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"19." I said softly.

"You're nineteen years old, you're selling yourself, and you're giving yourself cancer. I mean, why wouldn't I care? You've got so much life ahead of you. Sure we don't know each other, but there's a reason met." He said, and I scoffed.

"Alright, Mr. Wise-Guy..." I mumbled.

"You don't have to live like this Luke. You should be happy." He said, and stood up, getting onto the train that pulled up in front of us.