A cold breeze filled the air, making the streets of Paris colder than it seemed. Birds chirped happily, getting ready to fly away for the winter.

A tall raven haired man, was dressed in a fabulous suit, his tail coat touching the back of his knees. He was important, his family practically ran the town. The Anderson's.
The most well respected family in Paris. They could control everyone and everything. If you insult or defy them, it was certain you would be taken care of.

He walked through the empty streets. The youngest Anderson was he one they all adored. Blaine Anderson. He was what girls wished they could have, and men wished they could be. He showed compassion for others, unlike the rest of his family, though they all never dared to question or defy him. He whistled a tune to himself, looking around.

The new cold didn't seem to bother him. His raven hair was styled back, his hair probably would cost more than more people's life savings. His suit it-self, could last a family ten years of food if sold. He was worth much more than a pretty penny.

He collected a flower from the bush, a single red rose. He smiled softly at it, being careful of the thrones.

In the most of it all, the strum of a ukulele could be heard, along with the sweetest of singers. The singer sounded like they came straight from a stage, to at least should be on one.

A small pale boy, sat on the half wall, separating the shops from the trail for the harbor. His voice rang out like birds singing. His clothes not nearly warm enough for weather like this. Torn and tattered, covered with patches, that didn't match the original fabric at all. He wore a paper boy hat, shivering. Though he didn't let that get to him. He kept singing his tune.

A fedora besides him, with few coins in it. He looked out at the sunset, still playing as the sky lit up, turning into a cold night.

The Anderson boy stopped at the younger male. He eyed his appearance. He was one of the poorer people in town. Scrapping to get any kind of money to survive. He checked his pockets, he remembered what his father said.
"Never travel to town with money in your pockets, there will always be someone who will do whatever it take to get it."
All he had was the rose.

The song rang out, like a perfect orchestra in his head.
"Tiens-moi près et tiens-moi vite, ce sort magique que tu jettes. Je vois une vie en rose. Quand vous m'embrassez, le ciel soupire, et si je ferme les yeux, je vois une vie en rose."

So, he placed it in the fedora. The boy noticed and saw, a single rose. He sang looking at the man with curious eyes.

"Life in Pink is one of my favorites." Was all the youngest Anderson said.

The young boy tilted his head in confusion to the Rose ,but nodded to his remark. He knew who he was but was scared to speak out.

"I don't carry money into town, so I'm sorry. The rose is all I have, but you play beautifully." A soft smile crept onto the rich man's face, showing lines forming from his consistent smiles he gave out. His hazel eyes glistened against the sunset.

The homeless boy nodded a thanks, giving a small crocked smile back to the handsome man. The youngest Anderson walked into the sunset, off to his mansion.

The blue eyed, innocent boy looked after him. The pink shining off his porcelain skin. He breathed out, his breathe seen through the crisp cool air.

He felt something. Something he hasn't felt for a long time, but he'd have to push it aside. He was nothing but A Hopeless Stranger.

Idk it just happened.
Stay Strange🌵