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➶ Affiliation ➶
North Wind
➶ Location ➶
Random house → Streets
➶ Outfit ➶
William's outfit (a lot more worn out)
➶ Song ➶
"Gone Bad" - Monsta X
➶ Interaction ➶
No one in particular
➶ Mentioned ➶
No one
➶ Tagged ➶
No one
It was a nice morning, the only problem was how early it was. He groaned and shifted in the bed, the incredibly soft bed that he had been staying with for a couple of days now. If it was his choice he would never leave, but the world didn't work out that way, the world never worked out his way. Reluctantly he opened his eyes to only be blinded by the cursed sunlight, his hand coming up to shield his eyes from it right away before sitting up and ruffling through his red strands that were slightly messy. "Damn that was a good night's sleep..." He told himself as he stretched his long limbs into the air, kicking off the blanket, and then standing up. The wooden floor was cold underneath his bare feet and the direct sensation sent a shiver up William's spine, one he shrugged off as he headed into the shower. A refreshing shower always made him feel better, especially considering that it was so early and he hated waking up early, but today his body had just decided that it was "rise and shine" time before the sun had the proper chance of warming up the air. He soaked in the shower for a very long time, just letting the warm water keep his body nice and heated --like it had been underneath the blanket-- before he had to step outside to not waste the water. He would have gotten himself some breakfast, but his provisions had run out and he wasn't planning on raiding an nearly empty fridge. He made quick work of drying his hair and getting dressed in the newly washed rags he liked to call "clothes". There were several holes in his shirt and pants, his shoes looked pretty good still.
"Welp, thanks for letting me stay here!" William said as he opened the same window he had entered through with a little backpack hugging his back. That was his "provisions" backpack, where he had food with him that he had either bought or stolen. A man did what a man had to do to survive out on the streets. The cold air made him hiss a little bit, but he ended up jumping out of the window and into a back alley, neatly closing the window behind himself and then casually stepped into the streets. This was how his life was now. He knew enough about the streets to know when people were going away for a little while, which was a perfect opportunity for him to borrow their houses for a bit. He didn't steal their food, but he borrowed their bed and their warm four walls, luxuries that William could no longer afford himself. A working street musician didn't have a steady income, so renting an apartment was close to impossible, which made him one of those homeless street livers. At the very least he was clean, he had never touched anything shady and stayed far away from alcohol. It was a waste of money, money that didn't grow on trees for William. He had a couple of change left in his pocket, should be enough for a decent meal somewhere, but he might as well start off his day like usual.
Long legs carried him over to his usual corner where he pulled out his guitar from his little provision backpack, and he sat down on the cold pavement. It was really cold, it was threatening to freeze his butt off, but he sat down nonetheless. His fingers carefully and gently tuned the instrument that he cared for --almost-- more than his own life, and then his fingers glided over the strings to create a beautiful tune. He closed his eyes and sighed a bit, his the back of his head hitting the wall of the building he was leaning on, and his eyes opening themselves only to stare up at the plain sky. The sky was meant to be soothing, to give a calming feeling of freedom, but for some reason, whenever William looked at the sky he only felt melancholy. He diverted his gaze from the blue sea, and instead focused on his guitar again. One note was followed by another, and it wasn't long before William's voice joined in to bring a song to the people passing him by. Many stepped by him like he was a ghost on the street, some dropped a few coins here and there in the little cup that was provided. He never earned a lot, but it was usually enough to go by for a couple of days. It helped when he didn't eat more than once or twice a day, at its best three times.
He had just reached the last note in the first song when a very small crowd --consisting of five people at its best-- gave him applause and a few coins. A bright smile formed over his lips as he thanked them wholeheartedly, just as he saw a pair of black boots stepping in front of him. This guy again. It was no secret that William was not fond of the police, he wasn't even fond of the government, but this one police officer had taken a strange liking to him. He may have known William's parents, but that didn't mean that he had some sort of responsibility over William. Two years had gone by since William began living on the streets, and in the beginning it was great to have the police officer as an asset, but that was it. He was an asset, something he could use whenever he needed to get out of trouble, nothing more. His heterochromia eyes spared the man one look, his emerald green one always looked a lot fiercer than his dark brown, but he stared at him nonetheless, before he gazed back to his guitar and was about to start a new song, but the police officer had other plans. His huge hand blocked the neck of the guitar, silencing the note that William had started on, and brought back the awkward silence that always lingered in between the two of them.
"I'm working here," William harshly spat as he tried playing the note again, but the guitar was ripped from his hands which forced him to stand up in the attempt of getting it back. "If you break that, you're paying for it!" He hissed angrily and bit back the will to curse, he had to show the officer some respect.
"Will, I am--"
"--Only friends can call me Will. It's William for you,"
He interrupted him. His arms crossing themselves over his chest as he gave the scar on his nose a few scratches, luckily it was blocked by the band aid that he had placed there for not too long ago, though he knew that some blood had already seeped through it. He could feel it, and he saw it in the mirror of the bathroom he had borrowed for the last couple of days. He couldn't afford a new package of band aids, and it wasn't far up on his "need to survive" list anyway. He'd steal a package if it came to it.
"William. I am concerned about you. It's autumn now and when the winter comes--"
"--I don't need your charity Officer Keller. I don't need your pity either. I've done this for two years, and you start getting yourself concerned this year? Yeah, no thanks,"
William said as he snatched his guitar back, and grabbed the cup off the ground. He made quick work of counting the money, smiling a bit when he realized it was more than he had expected.
"Have you ever thought of going back? Back home?"
William looked over to Officer Keller as he put his guitar back in his backpack, the neck of it sticking out like it usually did, as he put the cup away as well. Home? What home? The only things he had was what fit in his backpack, there was no "home" for him anymore. Four walls that consisted nothing, but painful memories that stabbed daggers into his heart and mind every day was not a " home" it was a living nightmare. However he never expected anyone to understand him, but he had expected for some to listen that weren't paid to do so, but who would listen now that everyone had left? "This is my home. These streets," William answered him. It seemed as Officer Keller was having one of his more stubborn days today, so he would just have to find another spot to work today. If he had known that it was Keller that would take this patrol route today, then he would probably have walked over to one of his other spots. Unfortunately there was no way for him to know, unless he did a little bit digging around, which was absolutely never worth it. He had dealt with him before, and he would do it again.
"What would your friends--"
He interrupted him. However this time he didn't interrupt him with words, but with a closed fist. His right hand hit the Officer in the jaw, his hand shaking from how much it hurt when he landed the hit, and William could feel some blood seeping out of his knuckles, he must have hit a tooth or a few teeth. Keller stumbled back a little bit and dried away the blood from his lips, a few bystanders staring and whispering at what they had just witnessed, but all of them were too scared to interfere. "Don't you ever talk about them! Don't even think about them! You hear?!" William shouted to Officer Keller, turning his back to the man, before stepping away. He could feel his gaze of pity hitting him in the neck, but he did not bother to turn around and face him, instead he kept walking faster.
At the first opportunity to sneak into a back alley he did, his hand slammed itself into a brick wall, to vent out some of his frustration. It was still shaking from the contact with Officer Keller's jaw, and it didn't start tremoring less now. "...They just don't understand," he murmured to himself as he brought his hand up to grab the golden locket tucked underneath his shirt, holding it up to open it and look at seven smiling faces, his own included. "...idiots. 'What would your friends say if they saw you like this?'" He quoted to himself. The same line he had heard so many times before. "They'd tell me to get my stupid butt home and stop moping around like a baby, but here's the difference--" He closed the locket and tucked it back safely into his shirt, hiding it from any potential pickpockets.
"--They're not here," William deadpanned himself, before stuffing both hands into his jeans pocket --one of them had a hole in it-- and then continued to step down the street. He was hungry, he'd stop at a cheap cafe and buy himself a coffee and something else, some sweet, because this had been one bitter morning.
