nightshad3370
The drizzle fell in thin sheets, slicking the cobblestone streets of District Nine. At thirteen, Tommy had learned to move like a shadow, unnoticed by the merchants and beggars alike. His hands shook-not from the cold, but from the small, brittle coin purse at his hip, clinking faintly with the morning's meager earnings.
He leaned against the corner of a crumbling building, eyes hidden beneath the hood of his threadbare jacket, and took a deep breath. The streets were emptying, the crowds dispersing toward the market square, leaving him alone with his guitar and the echo of his own voice.
He began to sing.
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or that fic where tommy is a street kid and wilbur, techno, and phil want to take him in.