― コンクリート森林 ―
Another lazy day, watching the world pass by and go about its business, with so many unaware who ruled them. They knew enough to stay away from the guy who always sat perched on the railing outside that old apartment building though. Even most of the place’s other residents would skirt a wide distance.
He was halfway through a drink of his bottle of Dr. Pepper when someone didn’t think to give him a wide berth. It was kind of surprising, because he’d barely paid the kid any heed, and figured he’d had enough sense to watch where he was going.
Which was why the bottle went flying from his hand, landing nearby on a sewer grate and pouring its contents out.
Ontarou would have gotten barely through his sentence before a hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt, a glare as he stared down at the youth. …Youth? There was actually something awkward about this kid, now that he looked at him and actually paid him a damn. Cute though. But that was beside the point.
His head motioned towards the drink that was now lost to him. ”Pay.” A hand was held out, expectantly. He didn’t take kindly to people disrupting his peace.
〚 罰当たり悪魔 〛
Crap, this time he got into shit again. Well, how many
times had this happen in his long life? Bumping into
someone and that person isn’t too happy. And
sometimes it almost gets him killed, sometimes it
get him severely injured but in the end he made it
out alive. This guy… he was told to avoid him, right?
Yet he bumped into him.
Not to mention he mention the drink the other was
holding flew into the gutter. It surprised him and only
now did he realizing that the drink the other was
holding flew there. In his haste, Ontarou didn’t watch
where he was going, and now the other grabbed the
collar of his shirt.
What do this guy want? From experience, it’s either
a beating, money or worse, his life. Though there’s
this one time with a psycho that wanted his ass…
Oh! He wants money, and Ontarou quickly fished
his pockets for money, none, nothing in his pockets.
Not even a yen. As he realized that he have nothing,
Ontarou looks away from the other’s glare. Eyes are
the only thing that remotely suggest Ontarou isn’t as
young as he looks. Though aside from the eyes, he
still look quite young.
Like junior high school young.
He looked at the spilled drink, he have to pay for that,
right? But he didn’t have any money with him. Not even
something that has monetary value. In his haste, he left
his wallet and cell phone at home.
〚 I… don’t have any money. 〛
