in all our bones
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/13065822.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Sense8 (TV)
Relationship: Felix Brenner & Wolfgang Bogdanow, Wolfgang Bogdanow/Kala
Dandekar, Riley Blue/Will Gorski, Amanita Caplan/Nomi Marks
Character: Nomi Marks, Wolfgang Bogdanow, Felix Brenner, Sun Bak, Capheus
Onyango, Jonas Maliki, Lito Rodriguez, Amanita Caplan, Riley Blue,
Kala Dandekar, Will Gorski, Sara Patrell, Angelica Turing
Additional Tags: Homelessness, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe
-Teenagers, that abandoned church where angelica died lol, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution,
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Friendship, Nightmares,
Families of Choice, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,
Stillbirth, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, Alternate Universe -Homeless, Drug Withdrawal, Prostitution, Self-Harm, Food Issues,
Recovery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Families
Stats: Published: 2017-12-19 Completed: 2018-10-29 Chapters: 40/40 Words: 53800
in all our bones
by whitelightsSummary
AU where the sensates are street kids in Chicago, not sensates, but somehow they still find each other, and still need each other, and still become a family.
Wolfgang & Nomi
Chapter Summary
In which Wolfgang meets Nomi
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Hi," is the first thing she says to him. Then: "My name's Nomi."
It's just past 3 AM. Wolfgang is leaning against a lamppost, freezing his ass off in a thin jacket and a pair of skinny jeans, and she's the first person to walk by in over an hour.
"Hello, Nomi," he says, straightening up slightly.
She lifts a hand in greeting. "Hi," she says again, stepping closer, into the glow of the street lamp. She's about his age, he thinks, sixteen or seventeen. Blonde. Well-off, judging by her coat — fuck, Wolfgang would kill for a coat like that — and she's gripping the straps of her backpack with a naïve sort of eagerness.
"You interested?" he asks lightly. "Interested?"
"Yeah," says Wolfgang. He raises his eyebrows. "Interested."
She gapes at him for a moment. Then she squeezes her eyes shut. "Oh, god, of course," she breathes. "You're a— a prostitute, aren't you?"
Wolfgang feels his jaw clench, but there's no use in arguing, so he just lifts his chin and straightens his back and says, "Yes, I am. Are you interested or not?"
She offers an apologetic smile, and he knows her answer before she gives it. "I'm sorry. I'm, uh. No. I'm not. Interested. In that."
He shrugs. "Okay." "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine." He looks her up and down. Wonders where she's off to at this time of night. Wonders how much money she's got in her backpack, how many wool coats and blankets and decent meals she could buy if she wanted to.
She seems uncomfortable under his gaze. "I'm a girl," she says. "If you were wondering." She clutches more tightly at the straps of her backpack, angling her elbows over her chest.
Wolfgang nods. "Okay."
"Okay?" she repeats. Then, immediately, she grimaces. "Sorry. It's just— some people don't believe me at first."
"Well some people are idiots." "Yeah," she agrees. "They are."
They stand there in silence for a moment, until finally Nomi lowers her eyes and says, "Could I ask you something?"
Because of course she does. Of course she wants something, everyone wants something, no one ever fucking talks to him unless they want something.
He quirks an eyebrow in response and the girl gives an embarrassed sort of laugh. "I, um— well, I don't know if this is, like, rude. To ask. Or something," she says. "But, you wouldn't happen to know any good, um, places to sleep, would you? Like. Outside? Long-term?"
She smiles at him weakly, and just like that, a picture of her life starts to come together in
Wolfgang's mind: Rich family. Shitty parents. Kicked out, probably, but possibly left of her own accord. Hasn't been on the streets long — a day or two, maybe less. No survival skills. Too nice for her own good.
"Not really, no," he tells her, crossing his arms. And it's true. It's like thirty fucking degrees; there are no good places to sleep outside.
"Oh," she says. "Okay."
Wolfgang can practically feel Felix elbowing him in the ribs for being such an asshole. Just fucking bring her back to the church, Felix would say. But Felix is a pushover who probably wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Wolfgang. And Felix isn't here right now.
So Wolfgang just sets his jaw and says, "That all? Because you standing there… it isn't really good for my business, to be honest."
The girl's eyes widen. "Oh my god, I didn't— I'm sorry— I—" Her voice breaks. "I'm so sorry, I just— But no, you're right, I'll go now. Thank you."
Wolfgang looks at her— at her clean Converse shoes and her painted black nails and her face, inexpertly schooled into something resembling bravery. She turns then, and begins to walk away, one step, two steps, three steps—
"Fuck," mutters Wolfgang. "Wait."
She glances back, looking almost frightened.
Wolfgang pushes off from the lamp post. "I know a place to sleep," he says, not quite meeting her eye. "It's this abandoned church; my friend and I stay there; it's— well there's walls at least, and a mattress and shit, so."
The girl wheels around and stands there, facing him, mouth slightly agape. "Oh god, thank you," she says after a moment. "Thank you so much."
"It's fine," Wolfgang tells her, setting his jaw. "It's nothing."
He's going to regret this, he thinks to himself. He's going to regret this so fucking much. ***
his ratty old blanket, he finds, to his surprise, that he doesn't. He doesn't regret it at all.
Chapter End Notes
more to come!!! more characters will be introduced as the story progresses and eventually they'll all be here i promise.
Felix & Nomi
Chapter Summary
In which Nomi meets Felix
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Nomi sleeps like someone who's never had to fear falling asleep— deep, even breaths, no thrashing with nightmares, no waking up at every little noise.
It's dark in the church, but there are street lamps outside the broken windows and moonlight filtering through the collapsed rafters, and Wolfgang can make out the silhouette of her shoulder rising and falling as she breathes.
She hadn't protested the rotting old mattress when Wolfgang had shown it to her, just asked again and again if he was sure he would be okay sleeping on the ground, if he was sure he didn't want to share, or at least take the blanket? Or the pillow? Really? Was he sure?
"Thank you," she'd said at last, so earnestly that Wolfgang had felt himself blushing in the moonlight.
"Don't worry about it," he'd muttered.
She'd smiled and set down her backpack at the foot of the mattress, then curled up under his and Felix's lone blanket. "Goodnight, Wolfgang," she'd said, as he lay down on the ground beside the mattress, knees drawn up to his chest, arms pressed between his thighs.
"Goodnight," he'd replied.
Nomi had fallen asleep within minutes. Wolfgang stays awake until dawn. ***
Felix returns as the first hint of light starts to seep into the sky above the church.
Wolfgang scrambles to his feet and meets him at the door, hushing him in the middle of whatever he'd been starting to complain about.
"Listen," he says, "I met a girl, she had nowhere to go, so I brought her back here." "A girl, eh?" Felix repeats, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
He's joking, Wolfgang knows, but he punches his shoulder anyway. "Shut up. She asked if I knew anywhere she could sleep and— What's so fucking funny?" he hisses, because Felix is,
inexplicably, laughing.
"Nothing," grins Felix. "It's just that I always knew you were a big softie at heart, Wolfgang Bogdanow," he says, pressing a finger against Wolfgang's chest.
Wolfgang splutters some attempt at a protest, but Felix just laughs again. "Fine, I take it back, you're still a hardass." He gives Wolfgang another shove to the chest. "So what's her name?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"The girl, what's her name?" repeats Felix, pushing past Wolfgang and starting to make his way toward the back of the church.
Wolfgang jogs to catch up. "It's Nomi," he whispers as he grabs Felix's arm. "Now shut up, okay? She's sleeping."
They stand there for a moment, staring across the church at her sleeping form.
"You gave her the mattress," Felix observes. Wolfgang opens his mouth to apologize, but Felix just claps him on the back. "Good," he says. He looks Wolfgang in the eye. "That's good."
***
Wolfgang wakes up later that day to the sound of hushed voices.
He opens one eye, and finds Felix crouching by the side of the mattress, whispering with Nomi, who's sitting up slightly, her elbow bent and her head resting on her hand.
He shuts his eye.
It's afternoon, judging by the sunlight streaming into the church. He wonders how long they've been talking. "Dark chocolate is the best," Felix is saying. "I hate the cheap sweet stuff. Just tastes like sugar."
"But sugar is divine," Nomi whispers back.
"You and Wolfgang will get along," Felix laughs. "Sugar fiends."
Suddenly Wolfgang can feel their eyes in him. He concentrates on feigning sleep, his eyelids shut lightly, his breathing as regular as possible.
"How long have you known each other?" Nomi asks after a moment. "Four years," sighs Felix. "Feels like forever though."
"That's really nice," Nomi says, and Wolfgang can hear a smile in her voice. "I'm glad you have each other."
"Yeah," says Felix. "I am too."
They lapse into silence, and Wolfgang falls back asleep. ***
When Wolfgang next wakes up, it's late afternoon, and Nomi is gone.
He panics for a moment, glancing around the church, then wakes up Felix, who seems supremely unconcerned. "Said she had stuff to do," he mumbles, obviously still half asleep.
"I don't know." Felix sits up and rubs his eyes. "I— She said she was gonna go home to get stuff. She said her parents will be at work and her sister at school. She still has a key to her house. Said she'd bring food and blankets and shit. It's no big deal."
"You didn't wake me up?" "She didn't want to bother you." "For fuck's sake!"
"She said she'd be back in an hour or two!" Felix says. "Lighten up." Wolfgang doesn't lighten up.
And Nomi doesn't come back. ***
They open her backpack the next day, rifling through makeup and clothes and packets of chips. "You think she's dead?" asks Wolfgang.
"Nah," says Felix. He opens her wallet contemplatively. "I think her bitch parents locked her in her room till they can send her off to that fucking boarding school. Shit, she's got fifty dollars in here." Wolfgang snatches money out of Felix's hand. Sure enough, there's two twenties and a ten. "What boarding school?" he asks, pocketing the money and tossing the wallet back in the bag.
"Her parents wanted to send her to boarding school for boys," Felix says. "That's why she ran away."
Wolfgang looks up sharply. "Fuck," he mutters. "When'd she say that?"
"You were sleeping. We talked a long time," Felix shrugs and begins to pull out articles of clothing. A pair of underwear. A t-shirt. A bra.
"What else did she say?"
"I don't know. Stuff. You think it'd be alright if we use the money?"
Wolfgang stares at the bra for a few moments and wants to say no, they should save it, what if she comes back. But he's hungry and cold and it's fifty fucking dollars. So— "Yeah," he says
resignedly. "She wouldn't have left it here otherwise."
"Good," Felix grins. "Because I could really go for like ten cheeseburgers."
And Wolfgang tries to smile back, but all he can really think about is whatever hell Nomi must be going through right now.
And what he'd do to her parents if they were here.
okay i've now got most of this story planned out so i'm v proud. and like i said before i promise all eight of them will be together by the end.
Sun & Capheus
Chapter Summary
In which Sun meets Capheus, then Jonas
Chapter Notes
warnings: hunger and a reference to past child abuse
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sun wakes up at dawn.
Mechanically, she rolls up her sleeping bag and stuffs it into her backpack. Then she pulls her beanie down over her hair, hoists her overstuffed backpack onto her shoulders, and heads to the nearest public bathroom.
The water is cold as she washes her hands. Cold like the February wind outside. She examines her fingers under the stream of water, scrubs a bit harder at the dirt ingrained around her fingernails. Once, when she was six years old, Sun's father had slapped her across the mouth for coming to dinner with dirt under her nails.
She turns off the faucet and wonders what he would say if he could see her now, with her filthy nails and dilapidated backpack and too-small sneakers, her shoulders hunched under a jacket she found last month by the side of the road.
Wonders what her little brother would say. What her mother would say.
Her mother.
Tears fill Sun's eyes before she can stop them, and she pumps frantically at the paper towels dispenser, only to find it empty. She lets out a sob, a single sob. Then she dries cheeks on her sleeve, dries her her hands on her jeans, and takes a deep, steadying breath.
It's okay, she tells herself, her mother's face swimming before her eyes. Her mother wouldn't want her to cry. Her mother would tell her to be strong.
Sun is so, so tired of being strong. ***
Sun has a sign. "Please spare some change," it says in careful writing. "Anything helps." It's written on the back of a personal-sized pizza box and it earns her five dollars a day, if she's lucky.
This week, she hasn't been lucky. And yesterday she bought a pack of cigarettes, which wiped out all her earnings from the past three days.
She sets down her bag and sits against the wall, her legs hugged to her chest, and rests her sign on the tips of her shoes. Then she takes an empty cup out of her backpack and sets it beside her on the ground.
***
At some point her sign blows down and skitters a few inches across the sidewalk. Sun is too tired to flip it back over.
She buries her face in her knees. She's so hungry. No, not hungry. Last week she was hungry. Now she's just— empty.
It's past noon, and her cup is still empty too. ***
"Hey."
Sun glances up to find a dark-skinned boy standing before her, bundled up in a ragged blue jacket. He nudges the overturned sign with the toe of his shoe. "Jonas still up to his old tricks?" he asks. Sun stares at him, unsure how to respond.
"Still giving out those business cards?" the boy prompts.
"I don't know who you're talking about," Sun says then. "Please leave me alone." At this, the boy laughs. "Where did you get the pizza then?" he presses.
Sun glances at the lid, which is, sure enough, emblazoned with the words Casa di Jonas. "I found that box in the trash," she says, and the boy laughs again.
Then, to Sun's horror, he plops down on the ground beside her, crosses his legs, and turns to her with twinkling eyes.
"I'm Capheus," he tells her. Sun averts her gaze.
Capheus seems unperturbed. "Sorry," he says, scooting over by about a foot. "Is this better?"
No, thinks Sun. Why are you talking to me. Go away.
She shrugs.
"So you don't know Jonas?" tries the boy. "I thought every kid out here knew him." Sun shrugs again, feeling a prick of curiosity in spite of herself. "I don't," she says.
"Well he's the owner of this place," Capheus says. He taps the lid of the Casa di Jonas pizza box. "It's like ten minutes from here. I used to go there all the time and he'd always give me free pizza." Sun looks away quickly and stares down at her nails, her stomach clenching at the thought of food,
free food. Furiously, she presses a fist against her abdomen until it hurts, until she can't feel the hunger.
"But he's one of those savior types," Capheus goes on. "Kept asking if I had a place to sleep, kept giving me some social worker's business card and telling me to 'give her a call.' He wouldn't let it go. And free pizza's nice, but—" He looks Sun straight in the eye. "I'm not going back to foster care."
Sun nods slowly, turning his words over in her mind. "He gave you...free pizza?" she says, working hard to keep her voice level, to keep from sounding desperate.
"I told you," Capheus laughs. "That's how he is. Probably thinks it's his duty to feed every homeless kid in Chicago." He picks the pizza box up off the ground and flips it idly in his hands, pausing when he notices the writing. His eyes flick over to the empty cup on the ground.
"Hey," he says, more quietly. "Hey, I can tell you how to get there, if you want. You tell him Capheus sent you and I guarantee he'll give you something to eat."
Sun can feel her cheeks heating up. No, she thinks. I'm alright. I don't need help.
"Yes," she breathes. "Please." ***
She stands outside Casa di Jonas for at least fifteen minutes, avoiding the eyes of everyone who walks by, waiting for the restaurant to empty out.
At last it does, and she steps inside cautiously, flinching at the bell that announces her entrance. The man at the counter smiles at her. Jonas, presumably. "Can I help you?" he says kindly. "Want some pizza? Cheese? Pepperoni? Vegetable? On the house."
"Cheese?" Sun says hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "If that's alright. Um, Capheus sent me."
"Capheus!" exclaims the man. "I haven't seen him in months; is he doing okay?" He sounds genuinely concerned.
Sun glances up briefly, then down again. "He's fine."
"Good, that's good," muses Jonas. He disappears into the kitchen, then bustles back out, saying, "Alright, miss, here you go, one slice of cheese, fresh from the oven."
Sun watches through her eyelashes as he slides a piece of pizza across the counter on a napkin. She grabs it before she can help herself, breathing in the mingled scents of tomato and cheese and freshly-baked bread.
She takes a bite, a tiny one, and sucks on it, letting the cheesy dough dissolve on her tongue and slide into her empty stomach.
It is, quite possibly, the best thing she's ever tasted.
She laps up a bit of the oil pooling on top of the slice, then takes another bite, bigger this time, not even minding how the molten cheese sticks to the roof of her mouth.
She doesn't stop till she's eaten the entire slice, barely chewing, right down to the crust that scrapes her burned mouth as she swallows it whole.
"Thank you," she chokes out at last, finally looking up.
The man just watches her, a small crease between his eyebrows and pity in his eyes.
Suddenly shame, more painful than hunger, twists in Sun's stomach. She ate too fast. She was too weak. Absurdly, her mind travels to her nails, still dirty, and she curls her fingers into the napkin to hide them from Jonas's view.
"There's more where that came from," Jonas is saying, but Sun just shakes her head.
"I'm sorry," she tells him, the shame blooming up from her stomach and into her chest. "I— I need to go."
Jonas nods. "Alright. But there's pizza for you here whenever you need it," he says earnestly. "And here's this," he adds, placing something on the counter.
A business card, Sun realizes when she picks it up. Like Capheus said.
Angelica Turing
Child Welfare Specialist
Department of Children and Family Services Chicago, Illinois
It's sweet, she thinks, gazing down at phone number. It's sweet and it's stupid. The minute she's outside, she crumples the card in her napkin and throws it away.
Chapter End Notes
kudos make my life and please leave a comment if you enjoyed or have any questions or input or anything! :) tty soon
Lito & Felix
Chapter Summary
In which Lito meets Felix and Wolfgang
Chapter Notes
heads up!! warnings for this chapter: implied underage prostitution (no sex though), homophobic language, someone getting beat up, someone engaging in some self-harming thoughts/behavior, mentions of blood, a character saying they want to die, and mention of vomit and sickness. stay safe friends
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Lito was little, his mother would ask him, every afternoon when he came home from school, how his day was. And Lito would, invariably, reply with, "Good."
It makes him feel a painful prick in his chest to think about that now — to remember a time when life was an unbroken string of days that could be described as good.
There's no such thing as a good day on the street. Not really. There are a few okay days and many bad days and occasional very bad days. There are some days so awful that he tries — and mostly manages — to block them from his memory. But there are no good days, at least not for a teenage hooker who spends his nights giving blowjobs and his days asleep behind a dumpster.
***
The day Lito meets Joaquin starts out as one of the okay days. He buys a burger and fries in the morning and when he wakes up at dusk he's still got enough cash to get an order of chicken nuggets, which he eats with ketchup until he's full.
He says hi to the pregnant girl who busks on the corner and she smiles back. He reaches his own corner to find it mercifully empty of panhandlers or street vendors or other hookers. March is shaping up to be nowhere near as cold as February, so he isn't freezing to death as he stands there in ripped-up jeans and a t-shirt.
And he's barely been there five minutes before a man approaches him — handsome, tattoos, leather jacket. He's smiling.
Lito shifts a little, touches his crotch almost imperceptibly. "Hey," he says. "Hey," says the man.
"You're looking a little lonely on this evening, sir," Lito offers.
"I suppose I am a little lonely," says the man. He flexes his fingers, balls his hands into fists. "You want to help me out?"
"Of course," returns Lito. "What's your name?"
The man's smile grows. "Joaquin," he says. And there's something about his smile, something hard and mean that scares Lito a little, but the guy obviously has money and wants to spend it and Lito can't say no to that.
"Joaquin," Lito purrs back. "Let's go somewhere a little more private, huh, Joaquin? What do you say to that?"
And the man nods, so Lito places a hand on his arm and leads him down an alleyway beside a seedy little coffee shop. "How's this?" he asks.
"It's perfect." The man eyes Lito up and down. "Get on your knees," he orders.
Lito complies. "Twenty dollars for a blow, twenty-five without a condom," he recites, reaching to unzip Joaquin's jeans, but the man slaps his hand away.
"Not so fast," he says, seemingly amused. He stares down at Lito for a moment. "I'll bet you give a lot of blowjobs, hmm? Such nice lips."
"Yes," Lito assures him. "I— I'm very good."
At this, the man chuckles softly. "I'm not interested in a blowjob," he says.
And Lito's stomach flips uncomfortably. "It's ten for a handjob," he supplies. "And forty for anal. And y-you have to use a condom if you want anal."
The man smiles again, the same cruel smile from before. "I'm not going to have sex with you at all, you little faggot," he spits out, and Lito doesn't even have a chance to react before the blow hits his groin. Then there's a punch to his face, and another, and another.
"Stop!" Lito yelps, holding up his hands to shield himself from the blows. "Please! What—" But the man just shoves him to the ground so his shoulder smashes against the concrete, hard, and begins to kick him in the stomach, and the ribs, and the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Lito doesn't fight back, just closes his eyes and waits for the pain to end.
Except it doesn't end. The blows do, finally, and Lito listens to Joaquin's footsteps recede as he leaves the alley without a word. But the pain is sharp and all-encompassing and keeps Lito huddled on the ground for god knows how long, sobbing.
The thought that finally manages to rouse him is the idea that if he dies, he wants someone to find him in the morning. So he stands up, his entire midsection throbbing, and begins to walk shakily toward the alleyway's entrance.
He's managed to cover a reasonable distance before he realizes that one of his flip flops is still lying on the ground behind him, but he can't summon the strength to turn back for it. So he just keeps dragging himself along, one foot in front of the other. He passes a bottle, smashed on the ground of the alley, and steps on it: presses his foot down until he can feel shards of glass sinking into his bare heel.
Then he continues, feeling a kind of numb satisfaction at the pain in his foot, the one part of his body, of his life, where the agony is self-inflicted. He focuses on it, relishes in it, and somehow it lessens the ache in his stomach and shoulder and ribs, enables him to make it out of the alley and
onto the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop.
He lays down under the "CLOSED" sign, shuts his eyes, and falls asleep. ***
"Your foot's bleeding."
Lito opens his eyes. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think. Slowly, the world comes into focus around him and he stares at the legs of whoever's talking to him. Scrawny legs, black jeans, sneakers held together with duct tape.
"Did you hear me?" asks the voice. Lito squints up at the person talking to him, who turns out to be a tall, skinny boy with shaggy blond hair. "Your foot is, like, really covered in blood," he says again.
"I don't care," Lito intones. His jaw hurts like hell. Images of the previous night flash through his mind— the hard toes of Joaquin's boots, the cold ground of the alleyway, the broken glass bottle. He squeezes his eyes shut and that hurts too.
"Is it cut?" the boy is saying.
Lito sighs. "I walked around on glass." "What, on purpose?"
Lito nods.
"Well that was fucking stupid."
It was. Lito agrees. But he can't find it in him to care. Part of him wants to care. Most of him just wants to die. So he says so. "I want to die," he croaks.
"That's fucking stupider than walking on glass," the boy tells him without missing a beat. He bends down and touches Lito's arm, and Lito is too tired to even flinch away. "Come on," says the boy. "Get up."
Somehow, Lito obeys. ***
The boy's name is Felix. He tells Lito this as they walk, or rather, as Felix walks. What Lito is doing can't properly be described as walking: it's more like limping, or hopping, his arm around Felix's neck, whimpering with every step they take.
Felix talks a lot. He talks about how tired he is and how his jacket's too thin and how someone named Wolfie is going kill him. His pimp? Lito wonders.
No, he realizes as Felix continues to talk. His friend, or maybe his brother. Someone good, anyway, someone Felix trusts.
"Wolfie will fix you," Felix says placatingly after Lito lets out a particularly miserable moan. "He's good with injuries. He's got, like, a whole first-aid thing of shit he's stolen."
"Not much. Just around this corner." Felix glances over, eyes him hesitantly for a few paces. "So what happened?" he asks at last.
"Beat… beat up," Lito coughs out. He doesn't elaborate, whether because he's ashamed of being a whore or because can't really form coherent sentences right now he's not entirely sure.
But somehow, Felix guesses the rest. "He didn't even pay you huh?" he says darkly, an edge of bitterness to his voice that Lito hasn't heard so far in their conversation. "Just got you down on your knees then started kicking the shit out of you?"
"I— how—"
"That's how it always happens," Felix tells him. "How long you been doing this? Two months? Three?"
"One," Lito mumbles.
"Right. And did— did you just lay on the ground out there all fucking night?" "Yes."
At this, Felix lets out a sigh so sad and world-weary that Lito almost feels guilty.
"Alright," Felix says, his voice firm. "Don't do that again. You'll get better at guessing which ones to avoid. But this shit happens, okay? It's happened to me, it'll happen again to you, but it's no reason to lay down and die. You get used to it."
Lito lets out another whimper. "How long," he manages, "have you been…" He exhales painfully. "Too long," Felix laughs humorlessly. Lito glances at him, and Felix looks away. "Six years," he mutters. "Well, for me. Wolfie, four."
"You were— god," Lito whispers. "Young."
They round the corner, and there it is: A church, huge and dilapidated, clearly long-abandoned. "I was twelve years old," says Felix, as they gaze up at the towering structure. "Alright now, only a few more steps, come on."
Twelve, Lito thinks with each remaining step. Twelve years old, twelve, twelve, twelve— Felix fiddles with the lock for a few moments and the door swings open.
Lito collapses on the ground as soon as they step inside. ***
Dimly, Lito is aware of Felix calling out and of someone else approaching, kneeling down, pulling off Lito's shirt. Felix is talking animatedly; Lito can't make out the words. He opens his eyes blearily and there's a face bobbing before him. Not Felix. A different boy.
"I'm Wolfgang," says the boy. Expertly, his hands touch Lito's neck, chest, breastbone. His fingers are freezing cold.
"Lito," whispers Lito.
"Good. Did you hit your head?" "Huh?"
"Last night, did you hit your head?" "I… no, I don't… think so."
"Where does it hurt?" "Everywhere."
Wolfgang sighs. "At least try to be helpful," he says. Lito starts to cry.
"Wolfie, man, go easy on him," he hears Felix's voice say somewhere above them. "He's like half dead."
"He is not half dead," snaps Wolfgang, and Lito can't help but be cheered by his apparent conviction.
"M-my stomach," he groans, and immediately Wolfgang's hands are pressing on his abdomen. "You didn't puke, did you?" he asks. "After he kicked you?" Lito shakes his head, trying not to whimper at the pressure on his bruises.
"I don't think you're bleeding internally," Wolfgang pronounces. "How about your ass? Did he—" "No," says Lito.
"Well. That's something," mutters Wolfgang.
His fingers move on to Lito's ribcage. Lito gasps in pain, eliciting another sigh from Wolfgang. "You're going to be fine," he chides. "Just a few fractured ribs and a foot full of glass."
"Just?" Lito whimpers.
"Yes," says Wolfgang. "Trust me. It could have been worse."
Lito sniffles and sits up a little. And though he honestly doesn't really think he could feel worse than he does right now, he nods.
***
Wolfgang isn't particularly gentle as he pries glass from Lito's foot with a pair of tweezers, but he doesn't get angry when Lito starts to sob in pain, just grunts an apology and continues his work. "The pieces were big," he says after what feels like an eternity. "I got 'em all. You're lucky." "Mmm," moans Lito, feeling anything but.
He presses his face into the mattress they've told him to lie down on, breathing in and out, ignoring the musty scent of body odor and smoke. At least it smells better than the dumpster he's been sleeping behind for the past four weeks.
Wolfgang washes his foot with water poured from a water bottle, smears it with antiseptic, and wraps it in bandages. "Alright," he proclaims at last. "That's that." He hands him the half-full water bottle and four tablets of ibuprofen, which Lito swallows robotically.
"That should kick in soon," Wolfgang tells him. "So just lay down and relax, alright?" Lito nods and closes his eyes.
He can hear Wolfgang and Felix talking somewhere in the distance, and cars passing by outside, and for a long time he lies there in a swirl of confusion and gratitude and pain, not sure how the hell he's supposed to relax.
But little by little his foot stops throbbing, and his abdomen stops hurting so much, and finally, he sinks into a fitful sleep.
***
He wakes up to Felix touching him on the back. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he's saying, seated beside the mattress. It's dark.
"What time is it?" Lito slurs.
"Like midnight. Wolfgang already went out ages ago but he told me to wait till you woke up," Felix explains good-naturedly. "Only I started to think you were gonna sleep all fucking night, so. Sorry."
"‘S'okay," mumbles Lito, feeling a surge of guilt for keeping Felix from working. "You can go. I'm…" He grimaces in pain. "I'm fine."
Felix laughs. "Sure you are," he says. "I have more pain meds for you. And water. Wolfie said you should drink lots of water."
"Thanks," says Lito. He reaches for the medicine, then retracts his hand. "W-why are you… helping me?" he asks, before he can stop himself.
Felix shrugs easily. "The world is really fucking shit," he says. "I figure it's best to help if you can, a little. To make it less shit."
"Well it's very— It's very nice of you." Lito winces as he tries to sit up, but Felix gently pushes him back down against the mattress.
"Just lay down, man," he says. He holds out the pills again, and this time Lito takes them.
"I'm serious though…" Lito presses on. "Lots of people wouldn't… help— I mean— If I saw some guy… You can't just— You gotta protect… yourself… "
"Shhh," says Felix. "Take it easy, okay? I know it's supposed to be every man for himself on the streets and shit, but sometimes..." He clears his throat. "Wolfgang will never tell you how we met," he says after a moment. "But it happened because he was sick. Flu or something. And when you're living out here, you know, eating shit, never sleeping, cold all the time, the flu hits really hard." Felix pauses, and Lito has a feeling that he's trying to decide how much of this story he should tell. Then he takes a deep breath and continues on: "Right, so I was in this grocery store, just minding my own business, swiping food off the shelves or whatever, and then suddenly I see some kid getting thrown out by the manager for shoplifting motherfucking cough medicine. And— well, he
looked like he was in real bad shape, you know? So I went and stole the stuff for him. Found him puking in an alley, and... well, at first he was like a fucking feral cat or something— wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't let me get near him. But I gave him the medicine and he calmed down and brought me back to this place. Which was way better than where I'd been sleeping. So I stayed here and just..." He shrugs. "Took care of him till he was better. Probably saved his life, to be honest." Lito gapes at him in the moonlight, but Felix shrugs again. "Wolfie is the best person in the world," he says simply. "I never would have met him if I hadn't tried to help him. So I guess I learned that, if you help people, sometimes you help yourself too." He flicks Lito's uninjured shoulder. "Now get some fucking sleep."
Chapter End Notes
please please please leave a comment if you have anything you want to say! and kudos are gr8 too lol. until next time!
Amanita
Chapter Summary
In which Amanita brings gifts
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It's the middle of March when Wolfgang wakes up one afternoon to the sound of a knock at the door. He sits up, grabs the knife from under the mattress, and steels himself.
There's another knock then, this time loud enough to rouse Felix, who glances over at Wolfgang. "Hello?" calls a muffled voice. "I'm um— I'm a friend of Nomi's? Is anyone there?"
Lito, who they've learned can sleep through anything, doesn't move. They let him sleep.
Wolfgang replaces the knife under the mattress and, hesitantly, he and Felix make their way to the door of the church.
The knocking continues, as does the voice. "Wolfgang?" it says. "Felix? Hello?"
Felix unlocks the door and pulls it open to reveal a girl, with dark skin and dreadlocks highlighted by blue and purple braids, standing there with a smile on her face and a large garbage bag gripped in one hand.
"Hello!" she says. "I— You must be Wolfgang and Felix?" She peers into the church, looking slightly dismayed at the surroundings.
Wolfgang nods numbly, and her attention snaps back to him.
"Great! Okay, so Nomi gave me this address," she says quickly. "You know she got sent to boarding school, right?"
"We figured, yeah," Felix says. "Is she okay?"
"She's dealing," shrugs Amanita. "I've only talked to her once; she's only allowed one phone call a month or something completely draconian like that."
"Shit," mutters Felix.
"I know right? And each call can only be five minutes, so we didn't get to chat much, but she sounded... okay. Anyway, she talked a lot about you two, and it was all a bit jumbled since she was talking so fast, but from what I could gather she ran away from home last month and you two took her in for a night, and you're the sweetest boys she's ever met but also in dire need of blankets and non-perishable foods, so—" She reaches into the garbage bag and pulls out a folded blanket. "— I'm here to deliver!"
The girl sets down the bag and smiles. "And don't worry about the cost or anything," she rattles off. "That fucking school won't let them have computers but I guess a guy she met there is home for spring break and he's some kind of genius who hacked into Nomi's evil parents' bank account and wired me a buttload of money and it's all untraceable or something so—" She takes a deep breath. "Anyway, I hope you find this stuff useful!" she says brightly. She holds the bag aloft and
Wolfgang watches carefully as Felix takes it from her and hoists it over the threshold of the church. "Thank you so much," Felix says wonderingly, one hand still clutching the blanket.
"You're so welcome," beams the girl. Then: "Oh!" she exclaims. "My name is Amanita Caplan, by the way! I'm Nomi's friend from high school." She holds out her hand, which Felix shakes.
"Felix. That's Wolfie. Welcome to our, uh, home," he grins. He gestures toward the interior of the church. "You can—"
"Actually, you can go now," Wolfgang cuts him off sharply.
Because he's heard the name Caplan before. It was years ago, in another life, but he'll never forget the police officer who showed up at his house one night about a reported domestic disturbance, who pulled him aside and told him that her name was Officer Caplan and she wanted to help him, who asked if his dad ever hurt him or his mom and looked at him with such sad fucking eyes when he said no, never.
And Wolfgang remembers that this Amanita Caplan had had those exact same sad eyes when she'd seen how he and Felix were living, and he thinks of what Officer Caplan would say if her daughter told her about the poor homeless kids she met, and fuck.
"Seriously, you need to go," he tells the girl, who looks so confused that Wolfgang lowers his gaze uncomfortably. "You'll draw attention to this place standing at the door like that," he mumbles. "Well, you could invite me in," she cajoles.
"Yeah. Or not," says Wolfgang. He lifts his face and glares at her, hard and steely.
Felix is staring at him like he wants to bash his head against the wall, but he says nothing.
The girl, for her part, seems unfazed. "Suit yourself," she shrugs. She glances at Felix, then back at Wolfgang, and hazards a small smile. "I— I go to college in California but I'm here on break for another week. So I can come back," she offers, "if—"
"No," says Wolfgang definitively, taking a step forward, "you're not coming back, you got that? And you're not going to tell a fucking soul about us, or where we're living, or anything, you fucking hear me?"
The girl nods once, still seemingly unintimidated, though she can't have missed the implied threat in his words. "Loud and clear," she says calmly. "But do you want to tell me why you're being such a jackass?"
Wolfgang can't help but admire her mettle.
"Wolfgang's a jackass to everyone; don't take it personally," Felix says smoothly, stomping on Wolfgang's foot. "Right Wolfie?"
"I see," says Amanita. Then she sighs, and looks at him with her mother's sympathetic eyes, and Wolfgang can't fucking take it anymore.
"Look, your mom's a cop," he says abruptly.
"That's true," the girl replies. She tilts her head to one side, staring at Wolfgang with sudden interest. "Do you know her?"
"I've met her," he mutters. "And she can't fucking know about us."
"She could help you," Amanita says softly. "I mean, I won't tell her," she adds in a hurry, probably at the look on Wolfgang's face, "but I'm just saying."
"No she couldn't," says Wolfgang.
"Look, you wanna come inside?" Felix asks her, shooting a please-just-be-nice-for-once look in Wolfgang's direction.
Amanita nods eagerly, and for a moment, Wolfgang wants to slam the door in her face. Instead, he sighs and steps aside to her in.
Felix grins. ***
They wake up Lito, who's heard about Nomi but still needs a quick explanation of who this Amanita girl is and why she's shown up out of nowhere like Santa Claus.
Then they sit down in a circle, the garbage bag in the center.
"Alright," says Felix gleefully, glancing at Amanita. "Let's see what's in the bag." ***
'What's in the bag' is more than Wolfgang could ever have hoped for in his wildest dreams. There are two battery-powered thermal blankets and a pack of batteries, plus two regular blankets softer and thicker than any blanket Wolfgang's ever felt in his life. There are two winter jackets and several long-sleeved t-shirts and about six packages of socks. There are granola bars and protein bars and beef jerky and cans of tuna and boxes of crackers and cups of fruit. There's a sewing kit and hand sanitizer and bottles of water and empty ziploc baggies and an assortment of flashlights. He, Felix, and Lito pull out each item in silent wonder before carefully laying it down on the blanket Felix has spread over the ground.
At the bottom of the bag is an envelope, containing $200 and a note that reads: "Let me know if you ever need anything. Love, Amanita," followed by a phone number.
For a few moments, all they can do is gape between the note, and the bounty, and the girl sitting across from him with her hands folded in her lap.
At last Felix whistles lowly. "Fuck," he croaks. "Thank you so fucking much."
"It was nothing," says Amanita, waving a hand dismissively. "And— I'm sorry, I didn't know there'd be three of you; I just kind of got two of everything, so—"
"Amanita," Lito says earnestly. "This is more than enough. Thank you." "Yeah," Wolfgang echoes, staring down at the note. "Thank you."
Amanita smiles, perhaps a bit sadly. "You're welcome," she says. "I wish there was something else I could do to help."
But there's nothing else she could do, not really, and they all know it. ***
Wolfgang walks her to the door, grabs her arm before she leaves, and says, "I'm sorry." "Don't be."
"I was an asshole." He frowns. "I just— get like that sometimes when I'm…" Scared. "Worried." "You don't need to explain.
"No. Listen. I've done bad things, okay? Illegal things. If the police start looking into me… I know how nice your mom is, and I don't want her to—"
"Wolfgang," Amanita says. "I understand."
Wolfgang nods, even though of course she doesn't understand, she couldn't possibly understand what it's like to know you killed your father and it wasn't even self-defense because you attacked him from behind. What it's like to have been thirteen and an orphan and sleeping in the rain
because you're afraid to ask anyone for help in case it turns out you're a wanted murderer. What it's like to be terrified of even the nicest cops, terrified of being brought into the station because what if they fingerprint you, and what if they fingerprinted the burned car, and your fingerprints are on file, and they send you to prison?
He takes a deep breath. "If Nomi calls you again," he says, "please tell her hi from us. And tell her she's always welcome back here."
Amanita nods, and kisses him on the cheek. "I will," she says. "Good."
Chapter End Notes
note: Felix makes Lito and Wolfgang wear the two new jackets that night because he insists his old one is sufficient, even though Wolfgang knows it's really not. The next day Wolfie spends a bigger portion of the extra 200 bucks than he'd ever admit buying Felix the warmest jacket he can find.
Wolfgang & Lito
Chapter Summary
In which Lito has a nightmare
Chapter Notes
kind of a filler chapter but i hope you enjoy???
warnings for this chapter: references to homophobic language and child abuse
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Lito gets nightmares.
Of course he does, everyone on the streets does. Wolfgang does. Felix does.
But with Felix, Wolfgang always knows what to do — how lightly to touch him, how softly to speak when he wakes up hyperventilating, choking, cowering away from people who aren't there. With Felix it's effortless.
With Lito, it's... it's different. Lito wakes up crying. He cries quietly, so quietly that Wolfgang is pretty sure Felix sleeps right through it. He cries like someone who doesn't want anyone to hear. So Wolfgang lies in bed silently and listens, day after day, as Lito wakes up crying, scoots to the edge of the mattress, and sits there sniffling for an hour, his face in his hands and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
Until one day Lito doesn't just wake up crying. One day he wakes up sobbing, "Papa, no, please, no, Papa, I'm sorry."
And— Well, Wolfgang knows all about shitty fathers. So this time, when Lito goes to sit on the edge of the mattress, Wolfgang does too.
***
For a while, neither of them speaks.
"I'm sorry," Lito says at last, with a miserable-sounding sniff. "I woke you up, didn't I?"
"No," Wolfgang says automatically. "Well, yes. But I wake up at everything." He glances at Lito, then carefully fixes his eyes on the boarded-up windows across the church. "Look," he says lightly. "I don't know if you want to talk about it or not, but if you do..." He clears his throat. "It could be helpful. Maybe."
Lito doesn't respond immediately. "No," is what he says eventually, "I— I don't need to talk about it. It's really nothing. God, I'm so pathetic, always crying at my stupid dreams."
"Lots of people cry at dreams," Wolfgang shrugs.
"Do you?" asks Lito, in a voice that suggests he already knows the answer is no.
Wolfgang glances over, unsure how to explain that the only reason why he doesn't cry is because he can't, because once when he was nine his fucking father beat him half to death for crying like a little bitch and ever since then it's like his eyes just forgot how to make tears. "No," he says at last. "I don't."
"You see?" Lito lets out a watery sort of laugh. "You know, my dad would like you. He always said crying was for little girls."
Wolfgang feels his jaw clench.
"He wanted a son like you, not me," Lito goes on. "Someone tough and strong, you know? I was never like that. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an actor. My dad said acting was for fags." He gives Wolfgang a small, sad, lopsided smile. "Little did he know."
"Your dad sounds like a piece of shit," Wolfgang observes, but Lito shakes his head.
"He wasn't really that bad," he says. "Just very traditional and—" He shakes his head again. "My mom left when I was ten. We got pretty close after that. I used to tell him everything," he says, then laughs bitterly. "Well, everything except about being gay."
He looks away, swallows. Wolfgang waits.
"I kissed a boy at my school's Winter Formal dance," Lito says finally, in a small voice. "And then I thought... well, that made it official somehow, you know? I felt like, I had to tell my dad. And I guess I hoped that... since I was his son, he might make an exception. Only he didn't. He kicked me out. So—" Lito's voice breaks, and he exhales slowly. "Well, anyway, that's what I dream about. About him telling me not to come back, he doesn't want to see me ever again."
"Fucking bastard," Wolfgang mutters, as Lito scrubs at his face with his sleeve.
"See, now I'm crying again," Lito moans. "Fuck. Why can't I just turn it off?" He looks at
Wolfgang, his eyelashes glistening with tears. "Can you teach me your secret?" he asks. He says it like he's joking, but Wolfgang knows he's not.
Wolfgang takes a deep breath. "Sometimes," he says slowly, "I get this feeling in my body. Like, a tightness? In my chest and throat and— heart, it feels like." He makes a fist, presses it to his sternum. "And I know... that my body wants to cry." He can feel Lito's eyes on him, but he stares straight ahead, straight at the broken stained-glass windows. "But I can't," he concludes.
"Why not?" asks Lito, softly.
"Because my father was like yours," shrugs Wolfgang, still not meeting Lito's eye. "Said crying was for bitches."
"Oh." "Yeah." "I'm sorry."
are emotions that he's lost the ability to process.
Suddenly Lito starts to sob. "I'm sorry," he repeats, through tears, "I don't— I don't know why I'm crying—"
But Wolfgang knows, somehow, and Lito is crying for him. And somewhere in his chest, the tightness lifts.
Chapter End Notes
please comment if you enjoyed! + kudos are always appreciated!!! riley will show up in the next chapter :)
Riley & Lito
Chapter Summary
In which Riley meets Lito
Chapter Notes
warnings!!! this chapter contains both rape and referenced past rape. there’s also self-harm, dissociation, depiction of an emotionally / verbally / physically abusive
relationship, mention of bugs, and mentions of possible pregnancy complications. if you want more info or a summary or anything you can message me on tumblr, anon is fine.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The chairs at the free women's clinic are hard and the waiting room is crowded and the form that Riley's been given to fill out makes her feel like the shittiest mother on earth.
It asks if she's been attending regular checkups with an OB/GYN, whether she's been gaining noticeable weight, whether she's been taking vitamins and supplements. No, no, no, she thinks, biting on her lip.
It asks for an address. An emergency contact. An employer. She has none of the above.
It asks about drug use, wants to know "Amt. per day - pre-pregnant" and "Amt. per day - pregnant" of tobacco, alcohol, and "illicit/recreational drugs." She imagines writing the truth, imagines the doctor reading the form and knowing what a piece of shit she is.
It asks about her baby's father's medical history, and strangely there's no option for I don't know, he raped me one night at a homeless shelter and I never saw him again.
"I'm sorry, I changed my mind," she tells the lady at the front desk, setting the clipboard down on the counter. It clatters against the formica and the woman looks up, startled. "I— I forgot I have to be somewhere," Riley rambles, "I'm sorry, I—"
"Are you alright?" asks the woman, and Riley just shakes her head, fighting back tears.
"Miss?" the woman prompts, but Riley doesn't answer. She rushes out the door, sprints through the parking lot, away, away, away, because no, she's not alright— she's pregnant, and homeless, and so, so fucking scared.
***
She ends up at the public library and slips inside, breathing in the warm air.
She gets a piece of paper and a pencil from a librarian, ignores her disapproving gaze, and finds a seat at one of the free computers.
"Drug use during pregnancy" she googles. Ecstasy, she specifies. Then LSD, DMT, marijuana. The same words appear in the results again and again: "preterm labor" "small for gestational age" "miscarriage" "stillbirth" "increased risk."
So many increased risks.
She presses the tip of the pencil against her palm until it breaks the skin, then she opens a new Internet window. "how to have a healthy baby," she searches, and begins to make a list.
-folic acid supplements, she writes.
-vitamin d supplements -prenatal vitamins -lots of rest
-regular doctor visits -don't eat raw food
-three meals a day, gain approx 30 lbs
She stares at the last one, wonders what a doctor would say if they knew that the last thing she ate was a McDonald's Happy Meal yesterday morning.
-no alcohol, caffeine, smoking, drugs, she adds at last.
She jabs her hand again with the pencil, and watches as it punctures the skin. She does it once more, and then again, and again, until her entire left palm is smarting in pain and covered in little bleeding pricks.
Then she logs off of the computer and leaves the library, her list tucked into one pocket of her jeans and her bleeding hand in the other.
***
On the corner outside the library is a boy about her age, his arms crossed, just casual enough to blend in but just sensual enough to stand out, his eyes roving over every man who walks by. Riley's seen him before, she realizes: He used to hang out on the street across from the corner where she usually busks, but he hasn't been there in a few weeks, now that she thinks of it. Suddenly, before she can look away, he meets her eye, and his entire face seems to come alive. "You!" he exclaims. "You're the girl who plays music!"
"Oh— I—" Riley shrugs shyly, lifting her guitar case a little as if to prove her identity. "Yeah, that's me."
The boy lets out a laugh and practically skips over to her. "Sorry, you probably don't recognize me," he says, "but I used to—"
"No, no, I do." She smiles a little. "You'd always say hi to me when you passed."
"Yes, you remember! I've missed you!" The boy nods excitedly, and Riley has a strange feeling, like maybe, somehow, she's known him her whole life. "My name is Lito," he says, grinning, and Riley can't help but grin back.
***
They walk aimlessly down the sidewalk as night falls, their arms bumping into each other occasionally in a comfortable, familiar way.
"Have you heard of 'neural tube defects'?" she asks as they reach a stoplight. "No," Lito says, "what are they?"
"I don't know. But I just learned they can happen to the baby if you don't take folic acid when you're pregnant."
"Folic acid?" Lito echoes. "Is that a medicine?"
"I guess. I don't know." Riley laughs hollowly. "To be honest, I don't really know shit about any of this pregnancy stuff." Her voice breaks, and she looks up at Lito.
His face, illuminated red by the stoplight, is etched with concern. "Hey, it's going to be alright," he asserts. "You hear me?" And god, he asks it so gently that it almost makes her cry.
She nods at him. Lito smiles.
The light changes, and they start across the street. ***
"Want to sit?" Lito asks as they pass a CVS. "Is there anywhere you need to be, or...?"
Riley thinks of Jacks back at the squat, no doubt waiting up for her. "No," she says. "Nowhere to be."
Lito smiles. "Me neither."
So they sit down under a light outside the CVS, backs against the wall, Riley's "Pregnant, Homeless, Help if you can :)" sign propped against her shins, just in case.
"When's the baby due?" Lito asks, gesturing toward Riley's stomach.
"Oh, uh. August, I think. I did the math, and. Yeah." She rests her hand on the bump. "I think it's a girl."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's just a feeling. But if it is I'm gonna name her Luna." "That's a beautiful name," says Lito.
"Thank you." "Are you excited?"
Riley opens her mouth to say yes, but all that comes out is a stifled sort of sob. Lito puts his hand on her knee. "I'm sorry," he says.
jacket. "No, it's— I am excited," she sniffs. "But I'm just… I don't know. Scared, that I won't be able to take care of her. And— And I've been using," she admits in a whisper. "Like, a lot. And I know that's bad, and I knew it was bad, but— It just didn't seem real, and what if— What if—" Wordlessly, Lito reaches for her hand, but she pulls it away before he can see how fucked up her palm is. He settles his fingers back down on her knee, frowning. "Shhh," he says softly. "You're okay. You're alright."
"What if I've hurt my baby?"
"I'm sure your baby is fine. All is not lost." Riley desperately wants to believe him. ***
They part ways eventually, Lito heading back to the library to work and Riley going into the CVS. Because maybe Lito's right, she thinks. Maybe all's not lost. She'll quit the drugs. She'll buy the prenatal shit the Internet said she needs. Her baby will be okay. She will. She has to be.
Riley made $13.25 busking this morning before she went to the clinic, which isn't enough to buy prenatal vitamins.
But it is enough to buy a little bottle of folic acid supplements. So she does. ***
"Where the fuck you been?" Jacks demands the second she steps foot in the squat they've been staying at. He grabs her by the arm and pulls her in for a kiss.
"Out," she says, wresting her arm from his grip.
Jacks raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" he says, kissing her again. "Well what've you got to show for it?"
Shugs and Bambie are home, but they won't be any use to her if Jacks decides to go postal; they're huddled in the corner, high off their asses and gone to the world.
So there's no point in stalling. With trembling fingers, Riley hands him the eight dollars and twenty-nine cents she has left. She looks away as he counts it, stares at the peeling paint on the walls and the cockroaches scuttling along the ground for what feels like an eternity.
"That it?" he says at last, like he can't quite believe it. She nods, still not daring to look up.
"You fucking spent some, didn't you?" "I didn't," she says. "I—"
"Fucking look me in the eye and tell me that all you fucking made today was eight fucking dollars, you useless fucking bitch."
Riley lifts her eyes. "I— that's all I made; I—"
"Jacks!" she cries, "I swear, I just—" But she's cut off as he wraps his hands around her throat. "What. The fuck. Did you spend it on?" he snarls, shoving her against the wall.
Riley gasps for air, her eyes squeezed shut and her body gone limp. "ANSWER ME!" roars Jacks.
"Medicine!" Riley whimpers at last, struggling to breathe. "Just some fucking medicine, Jesus, Jacks!"
"Idiot," he snorts. "What the fuck kind of medicine you need?" One hand still pressed against her neck, he shoves his fingers in the left pocket of her jacket, then the right, and pulls out the bottle of folic acid.
"Fo-lic... acid... supplements," he sounds out. "What the fuck, man?" "It's for the baby," Riley chokes. "Please."
Jacks laughs at her as he lets go of her throat. "Oh fuck that," he says, and before Riley can stop him, he's opened the bottle and dumped the pills on the ground.
"No!" she yelps, lunging forward, but he catches her by the shoulders, holds her at arm's length. He grinds the pills under his shoe.
"Riley, Riley, Riley," he says. "Oh, don't cry, come on. I'm just watching out for you." He trails a thumb down her cheek. "You know that baby's not good for you."
"Jacks, don't say that," she whispers. "It's my baby."
"No it's NOT!" he shouts, slamming her back against the wall. "It's some fucking rapist's baby and you don't owe it fucking shit!"
Roughly, he wipes at the tears streaming down her face. "God, I love you, Riles," he whispers. "I hate that you gotta carry that fucking thing inside you. I hate what it's doing to you. I hate seein' it make you cry all the damn time." He pinches her cheek, so hard it hurts. "And I don't want you spending a fucking cent on it, you hear me, Riley?"
She nods at him. Jacks smiles. They kiss. ***
(And they fuck too, later that night, but Riley isn't there for that, she's just watching, floating, far away from the crying pregnant girl getting fucked against the ground of some shitty squat beside a spilled bottle of folic acid supplements.
Riley isn't there, no, that's not her begging Jacks to stop. That's not her curled beside him, half-dressed and shivering and trying to fall asleep. Riley floats even farther away, away, away, back to Lito, back to the CVS, and his hand is on her knee and her head is on his shoulder and—
Chapter End Notes
comments are very very appreciated! :) see yall again soon
Capheus, Sun, & Wolfgang
Chapter Summary
In which Capheus and Sun save Wolfgang
Chapter Notes
warnings: mentions of blood, depiction of one minor character death and mention of others
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Capheus knows a lot of things. He knows how to make money, waking up each morning before the sunrise and setting off in search of aluminum cans, pilfering through garbage and recycling bins and filling the bag that sits in the basket on the back of his bike. By 7 AM he's in line at the scrap metal recycling center, where he makes 55 cents for every pound of aluminum he brings in. He gets his money and buys his breakfast and then he's off again for another round of can collecting. There are always fewer to be found during the day, and more people around to tell him to fuck off and get a real job, but he usually manages to gather enough to buy another meal at least, and that's all he really needs.
Then it's night, and time to sleep, and Capheus knows every grate in the city, knows which ones are warmest, which ones are best if you don't want to be disturbed by police in the middle of the night. He knows just how to huddle into his sleeping bag to keep out the chill, knows where to place his head on his backpack so that it's most comfortable.
What he doesn't know is how to fall asleep without feeling overwhelmed by the desperate,
crushing loneliness that he somehow manages to keep at bay during the daylight hours, how to fall asleep without thinking about his mother and father and sister and remembering how alone he is in the world and silently crying until sleep finds him at last.
***
Sun is sitting in front of the Starbucks this morning when Capheus steps out of it, a muffin in his hand.
They chat sometimes. Sun never really talks much, but there's something about her that Capheus is drawn to, something fragile and strong at the same time that fills his chest whenever he's with her, something like hope.
"Good morning," he says brightly.
Sun presses her lips together in an approximation of a smile. "Good morning."
He checks the lock on his bike, then sits down beside her, holding out the muffin. "Want it?" he asks.
Sun gives him a look. "I'm not taking your food."
"It's not— I already had one," lies Capheus. He's not quite sure why. "You bought two?"
"Yeah, one for you," he smiles, pushing the muffin into Sun's hand.
She takes it gingerly. Peels back a bit of the paper. "Thank you," she says, frowning. "No problem."
They sit in silence for a while.
"It's a beautiful day," says Capheus at last.
"It's cold," Sun counters, her mouth full of muffin.
Which is true; Capheus's ears feel like they're about to freeze off under his hood. But it's beautiful all the same, he thinks: the way the clouds are dancing through the sky in subtle gradations of gray, the way that leaves are starting to bud on the trees.
"Cold days can be beautiful," he says.
Sun glances over, licking her fingers. "I suppose," she replies. "Sometimes they can be." ***
At Capheus's third foster home, or maybe his fourth, there'd been a boy named Jela whose favorite game was something he called "truth and truth."
"It's like truth or dare," he'd tell anyone who would listen, "except you have to pick truth, and the person who asks the question has to answer too."
Capheus explains Jela's rules to Sun one day in April as they share a bag of French fries.
For a moment she just squints at him skeptically. Then, to his slight surprise, she shrugs and says, "Alright. Truth."
He thinks briefly, trying to come up with something neither invasive nor boring. "When's your birthday?" he settles on finally.
"August 8th."
Capheus nearly chokes on the fry he'd been eating. "You're joking," he says. "That's mine too!" "Sure it is."
"No, I'm serious!" exclaims Capheus. "How wild is that?" She gives him a long, steady look. "It is wild," she concedes. "Maybe it's fate."
"Maybe it is." ***
They spend more time together after that, sharing money and food and an anecdote here and there, something Capheus's dad used to do, something Sun's mom used to say.
As the weeks go by they share other things too: tears, and secrets, and pieces of their histories — the sad pieces, the hard pieces.
Sun's mother died of cancer. Her father committed suicide.
Capheus's father was shot. His mother died of AIDS. He and his sister got split up when they entered the system, because the only foster parents willing to take an HIV-positive baby didn't want to take her older brother too.
"Have you seen her?" asks Sun. "Not since then."
"Do you wonder about her?" "Every day."
"Yes, me too," Sun says haltingly. Capheus glances over.
"My brother," she says with a small, sad smile. She doesn't explain, and Capheus doesn't ask, but they sleep side by side on the pavement that night, sleeping bag next to sleeping bag.
And for the first time in a long, long time, Capheus doesn't cry himself to sleep. ***
Capheus wakes to the sound of male voices floating over from around the corner. He sits up slightly, feeling his muscles tense as the sound of footsteps approaches.
"This seems like as good a place as any," a man is saying, and something about his tone gives Capheus goosebumps down his arms.
The footsteps stop.
"Okay, so what do you want?" asks a different, younger voice. "Blowjob? Handjob?"
"First," says the man's voice, "I want you to kneel down and close your eyes... That's it, there we go. Good boy. Close your eyes, I said. Good."
Capheus turns to nudge Sun, only to find that she's already awake. She nods once, and puts a finger to her lips.
The man continues speaking. "My name is Dr. Metzger," he says. "And you need to do everything I tell you to do, no fighting, no complaining. Do you understand?"
There's a long pause. "Yes," the younger voice says finally. He sounds scared. Capheus feels
scared.
"Excellent. Now, open your eyes. You see this knife?" "Jesus fucking—"
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes down the street.
"Hush," says the man, "just look, don't talk." There's shuffling sound, and the man continues calmly:
"This knife is sharp enough to cut through human bone," he says. "I use it to cut through my
patients' skulls and examine their brains. It's a beautiful thing, the human brain. Sometimes I wish I could have one to examine at home. One that I could truly pick apart."
Slowly, Sun sits up, leans forward a little, like she's getting ready to jump up and investigate. Capheus puts a hand on her arm. "Don't," he breathes. She shoots him a look, but stays in place. Then there's a shuffling sound, and—
"You fucking— psychopath—" grunts the younger voice. "Settle down. Don't make me—"
Thud.
"Get off of me!" "Stop struggling."
"Fucking Christ, what're you— No! Stop it!" There's a scream of pain.
Sun's on her feet in an instant, and this time Capheus doesn't try to stop her.
Together they round the corner to find a teenage boy lying on his back, his arms pinned behind him and a dark-haired man bending over, knife in hand.
"Fucking let me go," shouts the boy, struggling to keep the knife away from his forehead. "I'm a doctor," replies the man. "I know what I'm doing."
That's when Sun tackles him. Dazed, the man tries to stand back up, but Sun kicks him firmly in the chest.
"Put down the knife," she says, standing above him, her voice deadly quiet.
"This is very routine," the man coughs as he struggles to his knees. "I'm a certified neurosurgeon. I —"
"Like fuck you are!" yells the boy, scrambling to his feet and lunging forward, but the man is too fast for him; he pushes the boy to the ground and dodges the punch Sun throws at his face.
Unfazed, she grabs his arm, fighting to wrest the knife from his hand, but then he tackles her and— Capheus knows he needs to do something to help, and he needs to do it now, but his feet won't move: He's frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch as Sun ducks away from the man's knife and somehow manages to seize it from him.
"Let go of me," she hisses, one arm holding the blade to the man's throat, the other twisted under his hand.
