NCT Oneshots {ot23} | open

Shadow: Jaemin {Part 1}

My first oneshot! I hope you like it <3

▹prompt: shadow
▹word count: 1938
▹genre: angst
▹warnings: homelessness, mentions of alcoholism

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

Ominous clouds cast a dull shadow onto the crowded streets as they approached the city. Commuters dashed to push their way onto buses, fighting to get home as quickly as possible and dodge the first chilling drops of rain. Those without an umbrella pulled their hoods over their head. Conversations flew through the air to create an overwhelming wall of curses directed towards bosses and the late bus, the last string of patience close to snapping.

A man in a trench coat stopped in the middle of the pavement, causing a chain of other commuters to crash into each other, their gazes too focused on their phone screens to notice the backlog. Multiple sighs and huffs and groans joined the noise amongst the polluted air. The man grumbled at what caused him to halt. A puppy. He shifted his umbrella between his fingers and clapped, which provoked a pitiful whimper from the animal. She hung her dishevelled tail between her legs and scrambled into an alleyway. The man's hands straightened the collar of his coat, before he marched on with his suitcase.

The puppy dragged her tired body down the narrow alleyway. She passed the overflowing bins and graffiti under the moss of the crumbling wall, then turned left. Her destination was a small, abandoned garage. Ivy climbed across the door and masked the discoloured, red paint. The puppy stumbled through the puddles and squeezed her bony frame underneath where the door was held up by a stack of broken bricks. Her movements agitated raindrops to slide off, soaking the dog's fur even more as she shuffled through. Once inside, she shook herself dry then padded across the cold concrete. A pile of old cardboard boxes and a rusty bicycle were the only items inside, except for a young boy named Jaemin.

The miserable weather intruded through a leak in the ceiling and drops landed on the boy's shoulder, soaking through the woollen jumper. The puppy pawed gently at the sleeping boy's arm. When she received no response apart from a small sigh, she rolled over on the musty ground and nuzzled his chest. It took a generous lick along the boy's cheek for him to finally stir.

"Hey Bella." Jaemin croaked out, followed by a dry cough. 

The puppy's ears perked up at the sound of her own name and she yapped with excitement, poking Jaemin's chest once again, who sat up and pulled the rucksack which doubled as a pillow onto his lap. He rummaged through the contents. A frown infected his pale face, then he coughed once more, the force pulling on his rib cage. He gently pushed Bella's eager head out of the bag and stroked the black, brown and white patches of her fur. They were out of food again. The puppy sat down, waiting, her little tail wagging until it became a blur. Jaemin put the bag back down on the floor.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. Bella rolled onto her back, clearly awaiting her favourite game of tummy rubs. The sight only made Jaemin stare at her skinny body. He wasn't much better himself, and he hoped that his cold would clear up soon. The pain had begun to multiply each time he coughed, not to mention the fever he had woken up with that morning, but buying medicine or seeing a doctor were definitely out of the question.

Jaemin remained seated for a few more minutes to play with Bella and listen to the rain. A small puddle was beginning to form on the concrete where he lay before. He made a mental note to find something to cover the hole on the roof with next time they ventured out on a proper trip for the day. For now, he counted the drips, the steady rhythm calming him down.

Thirty-six drops later, they weren't as persistent or loud, meaning the rain outside was beginning to cease. Jaemin's stomach also told him he should hunt for food. The possibilities of what could be lurking within the shadows of the night scared the boy but sometimes it was necessary to venture out in late hours. Muffled shouts from the business people travelling home accompanied by the constant roaring of engines reassured him that evening had only just settled. He despised mixing with crowds because their stares crawled over his skin as though he were a mere exhibit, or a monster to avoid like the plague. But as long as he kept away from the busy places and brushed his hair a bit, the presence of a few other pedestrians comforted him. At rush hour no one would have any free time to pay attention, anyway.