cold feet [1]

two

taehyung's point of view

January 2nd, one of the worst days for me. Because every year, a new one comes. Every year, I slowly lose my sanity towards these people. These people who were hellbent on loving a loveless man. Yet every single one is persistent, wanting to 'help' me. I don't need their help, there is nothing wrong with me. But still, every year, they come.

You should leave the bus stop, they wouldn't find you then.
Great idea!

Wow, who knew I was smart? I got up from the bus stop seat, putting down my yoyo I had managed to dig up, it was such a time waster; which was great for me.

Where shall I go?
Idiot, didn't you say you needed new clothes?
Oh yeah.

So I decided, to go shopping! Not really. If it wasn't already clear, I am completely broke. Not even a cent falls from my pockets when I turn their insides into their outsides. So how was I supposed to get these new clothes? Well, the one way I always did; I steal them, not that I enjoy it. It's just one of the easiest ways to get what I need. Never do I take what I want.

I steal them from thrift shops, places where they supposedly donate to the homeless or less fortunate. But not once had I received any kind of donation; not once. So I steal from them to get my worth. I've never been caught, always getting out before anyone notices, keeping my head down and face covered so I don't show up on the camera. It's a yearly routine.

The shop was oddly quiet today. Maybe people were still on holidays from the new year.

"Good day sir, how may I help you?"

Ignore

So I did, continuing past the register, old scarf covering everything but my eyes. I walked to the men's clothing section, stopping in front of the jackets.

Do people have no sense of fashion?

Was my first thought. All of the clothes were horrid, all faded and ugly brown colours. None of them the right style. But why was I complaining about fashion? I live on the streets, so I picked out one, it wasn't too shabby. I walked to the change rooms, looking towards the cashier, before shutting myself inside.

God, there's a mirror. Don't look.

No, I don't have a phobia of mirrors, I have a phobia of myself. I remember once when I had done this to find a new shirt because the other one was torn to pieces, I had turned, seeing my own reflection in the mirror. I've never been so horrified in my life. So yeah, I steer clear of staring at myself for more time than I need.

I slipped the jacket around my shoulders, placing the hoodie over my head, then exited the changing rooms, pretending to take no interest in the clothing there and leave. The cashier looked up as I left, giving a puzzled look, but not questioning it. They move to the phone, picking up a call as I slip out.

Yes! You did it!

I smiled to myself, turning a corner and beginning to jog somewhere in the general direction of my home. I do so for a few minutes, but was soon stopped by the sound of sirens.

God damn it, that better not be you.
Oh boy, it's me.

The police car stopped beside me, I leaned against the wall, keeping my head down as the police man emerged, approaching me. He was slightly taller, with a much stronger build than mine. He smelt of flowers? Odd.

"Look at me." His voice was young, very young. He must be new. I slowly raised my head, finally seeing who owned the very shiny shoes I had been admiring for the twenty seconds he had stood there.