WARNING: contains mention/hint of violence and some blood. Read at your own risk

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A Cold Night

     He hurried as much as he could in the dusk light that came in through the window on the far wall. The boy stuffed everything that he could fit into the old pillowcase and backpack before hopping out the window and, without a single glance back, slid down the fire escape to land hard on the ground below. Tony only paused once as he suddenly remembered that he'd dropped his glasses somewhere in the one room apartment in his hurry to leave. With a frown and a sigh he simply turned and shrugged it off before he scrambled to run down the alley and out of sight as he heard the first strike of the wrecking crew against the old building. The owner had finally gotten in bad enough shape that she had to demolish the building for the measly insurance money it provided to help herself. She'd given everyone time to gather their things and leave, though Tony had been away at the time and had returned just in time to hear the news and grab a few things before the building could come down. 

     He was going to miss that place, he realized after he'd gone a good ways out, and had just gotten used to living in the rundown place and being around the people who lived with him. And now he knew he'd never be going back. Tony sighed once more at where life had led him. Homeless and outcast. He was at least glad he'd managed to grab that dress his brother had gifted him. He'd managed to grab a few other things that had been gifted to him by various others as well. The Long Islander didn't know what he'd do if those too had been lost. 

     Much later, long after evening had turned to night then the morning sun arose, Tony finally found a hidden spot to rest next to an old seemingly abandoned park bench. He hid away his dress and other things under the bench once it had begun to rain, staying out in the open himself as there wasn't enough room for him as well. The light drizzle soon turned into a downpour within moments and Tony sank down to the grimy and wet ground to wrap his arms around his knees. Using the rain as an excuse, Tony hung his head low down onto his arms and cried. 

Decisions To Make

The pen lay on the table atop recently written neat handwriting in an open journal next to a burnt out lamp. It read simply, with no to whom address:

We've discussed it again finally, Hubert and I. We've spoken of it a few times before, though this time I wonder if he truly means it. It would be difficult, but doable, and very much permanent. I can't help but find myself curious as to why he wishes to go through with it. Or is even considering doing this at all. To give up everything for someone else to take his place. To give up his status as a city and become a mere human destined to die within a shortened lifespan. But, it isn't a decision for me to make for him. No, it is his own. If he gives up his old Prussian city status rather than his current Russian city status then it is possible that it shouldn't affect the rest of us too much. Though I do know that life will be hard without him . . .  I can't help but wonder, not for the first time, if my helping him consider this option is a good or bad thing. Though, I suppose I'll never truly know until it is too late. And oh for all that life and hope and want is worth I pray that won't be so. And in my heart and soul I hope for all it's worth that Hubert won't say he wishes to go through with it, and that none of this will come to be.

— Klaus, of Kaliningrad

Empty-Hearted Home

     Niall limped home and made sure that no one was there, at least that he could tell in his current state, before entering the house and as quickly as he could made his way to the bathroom. Once there he wiped the still fresh tears and blood from his face. The Scotsman flinched when he looked into the mirror and saw what was reflected there. Unable to stare, he looked away once he'd cleaned his face completely. He then wiped his nose and eyes before stripping and getting in the shower, scalding himself in the process though he didn't care. Rather he hoped he could just hurriedly wash away what had happened to him. Niall made his mind blank and void of thought or memory as he cleaned the rest of himself and scrubbed his skin raw to wash away the dirt and blood and whatever else may be there on his skin. He hissed each time the cloth he used brushed over a bruise, some he hadn't even been aware of and others he had.

     Once finished and firmly wrapped up in a towel, chest to waist as a woman might for he didn't want to look at himself should he see more dirt or something he had been unable to wash off, Niall left the bathroom and limped down to his bedroom to gently pull on some of his more softer pajamas. He then curled up in his bed with the blanket pulled up over his still wet hair and held onto himself as he closed his eyes. He wanted to never think about this day or those men again and prayed he wouldn't have nightmares. Before sleep overtook him he knew firmly in his heart that he wished not to tell what had occurred that day to anyone. And so long as he could find a way to hide and heal his bruises in a short amount of time then he wouldn't have to speak a word about it. These thoughts swirled through his mind as finally sleep overcame him, his dreams that night blissfully nonexistent.