Chapter Text
Great. Just great. This is what it had come to. He has to resort to digging through the trash now? He was no better than a raccoon.
The trashcan rattled as he roughly dug through the garbage. Among the scraps of plastic and packaging lay his prize, a half eaten sub, still wrapped in green paper. It had long turned cold, but the smell of meat and cheese made his mouth water. He wrapped it up and tucked it into his ratty backpack, zipping it up and slinging the bag over his shoulder.
The streets were eerily empty, he barely saw another person the whole walk home, which in a sense was actually a good thing. The afternoon sun, hidden behind grey clouds, barely lit the suburb, the city was made darker by the drizzling rain. He trudged along the barren streets, sneakers becoming soggy when the rainwater gushing down the cracked sidewalk filled the thin fabric, causing the water to slosh uncomfortably in his shoes. Passing by buildings that were supposedly once bright colours, and alleyways littered with graffiti tags. Eventually the buildings began to thin out and the stench of people had almost faded completely. He found himself staring up at the old sign, despite a few of the letters falling off, he could still make out what the sign said, his mind filling in the blanks.
Red Hook Grain Terminal
This was the place he’d been calling home recently. Slipping under a bent gate, through a busted chainlink fence, and shoving the stuck door so he could crawl inside. Inside was what he assumed was once an office or breakroom, as this room was smaller than the rest of the facility. In the driest corner was a bedroll and a few meagre pillows which had lost most of their stuffing. A little away from the bedspread was a portable stove and his tins of fruit salad, which he was saving for a special occasion. He pulled off his soaked hoodie and draped in over an exposed pipe. He tugged off his sneakers and socks too, letting the water drain from them.
He unloaded his backpack, taking stock of what he’d managed to scrounge up. A half used box of bandaids, a box of stale crackers, a can opener, a tin of green beans, and the half eaten sub. He was far too hungry to care about cleanliness anymore, quickly unwrapping the sandwich and sinking his teeth into the soft bread. The smell of trash lingered on the morsel, but at this point he was sure he smelled worse, not daring to leave his shelter outside of necessity. God he missed hot showers.
He savoured each bite of the sandwich, licking up crumbs from his hands. He crumpled up the wrapper and placed it back in his bag for tomorrow. After sorting away the things he had found earlier, he peeled back the covers on his bedroll and crawled into the blankets, curling up into a fetal position. The few ratty, motheaten blankets he’d found did little to stave off the cold. Freezing air whipped through the broken windows, chilling the room. A long time later, he managed to finally slip into sleep, allowing him to get a few hours of restless, fitful sleep.
Deep.
Deep.
Deep.
Deep blue.
He's under water.
Very deep.
The water has him in its grasp. Its claws dig into his skin. The sun is so very far away. Its warmth doesn’t reach him down here.
He can’t move. He's sinking.
Oh god he’s sinking.
His hands claw at the water, desperately trying to pull himself to the surface.
His hands glide through the water, grasping nothing, and then it pulls him into the dark.
Deep.
Deep.
Deep.
Forever.
The jellyfish glides through the water easily, years of practice and ancestral knowledge tell him which way to go to move with the current, he doesn't even need to open his eyes. Eyes?
He’s free, moving however he pleases, not hungry nor cold. This is natural, this is where he is meant to be. Home.
but then… why is the water so far away? . . .
He wakes up in a cold sweat. Shivering in his bedroll. The wind is still howling, screeching as it tears through the canal, so loudly he swears his ears will start bleeding. The voices in the wind get louder and louder until they're screaming his name.
Uji
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