CHAPTER 1
I could feel that the alcohol had gone to my head - the rows of street lamps were slightly off focus, the orange sky blurring into one thick fuzz. Fuck it. Maybe getting drunk would wake my parents up. Make them realise I wasn't happy. I stumbled along, feeling my chest begin to tighten against the cold night air. For a moment I stopped, turning my face to the coming night and closing my eyes, feeling nothing but the sharp breeze and the gentle pressure of the glass bottle dangling from my fingertips. The scent of wet grass and chip shops drifted up, creating an odour half cloying, half sweet. Then there was another smell. That metallic, stony smell of rain. I opened my eyes, feeling the first few droplets of begin to fall. I heaved a sigh and carried on, speeding up from a walk to a gentle jog. I felt sick. I'd drunk far too much in so short a space of time, and I hadn't planned on running. The entrance to the subway seemed like my only place to shelter any time soon. I ducked under the concrete ceiling and leant against the wall, a cold sweat breaking out over my skin. From the other end of the tunnel the scent of piss and oily fish crept up. I turned, my stomach lurching, and threw up against the wall.
"You'll want to be watching yourself."
I coughed, looking over my shoulder and wiping my mouth on my sleeve hastily. A man sat hunched further ahead, leaning against the wall of the tunnel with a bag pressed to his side. I was surprised - the voice was soft, almost poetic, a sweet Irish accent. It didn't fit the man I saw before me.
"What's it to you?"
Had I been entirely sober, I probably wouldn't have spoken back to him.
"Before you know if you'll end up like me. Lost. Alone."
I frowned, taking another swig from the bottle, despite the fact that my throat was burning.
"So what? What do you care?"
"I care because it happened to me. I wouldn't wish my fate on anyone."
I stared at him and he stared back. Even from a distance of several metres, I could see the soft hazel colour of his eyes. Deep amber with faint flecks of green. His hair looked unwashed, and I couldn't help wondering how long he'd been here.
"What happened?" I asked, taking a few tentative steps towards him, grasping the neck of the bottle note tightly.
"My dad threw me out. I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Oh..."
I didn't know what to say. I took another gulp from the bottle and the man cocked an eyebrow.
"Careful."
"Yeah, alright, I get it."
I shook my head, trying to ease out the dull ache that had begun in my forehead.
"What's your name?"
I looked up, surprised by the question.
"Kieren."
"Kieren," he repeated, seeming to roll the word around between his lips and tongue, tasting it, "I'm Simon. It's nice to meet you."
"Yeah. You too..."
I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head.
"You'll be wanting to sit down. Walking about half drunk never did anybody any good."
I looked at him and he gazed steadily back. I'd had so many lectures about the dangers of being mugged or assaulted at night, but the alcohol rendered them completely useless. I took the final few steps and sat down beside him, keeping my fingers firmly round the bottle.
