Boy Meets Beast

✧ 1 ✧

It was a cold December in New York City, the coldest ever recorded in ten years. The weather app showed a blizzard on the horizon. If not today, then tomorrow.

A boy wearing a grey hoodie attached to a red plaid jacket slipped his phone into his black jeans and cursed.

"Shit." He put his hands inside his pockets and shuddered. "Why didn't I wear something warmer."

He was standing at a subway station, waiting for the train to take him to his house in Brooklyn. He was shivering in the cold weather with a backpack hanging on his shoulder. A few strands of his messy hair peeked from under his hoodie and covered his eyes.

When the train finally arrived, the boy hopped in and removed his hoodie, revealing fluffy dark hair that contrasted the paleness of his baby face. His cheeks were pink, as was his button nose.

His eyes stood out the most. Their innocence twinkled behind thick droopy eyelashes. The green in those eyes was touched by heaven. Their center glowed with golden specks that complemented their striking beauty.

He strolled around, looking for a seat.

The train was packed. It was rush hour. People were heading home from work or school. The boy managed to find a hallway seat and sat there waiting for the train to move.

His phone beeped. He checked it and found a message from his high school group chat.

Kris with a K: guys i cant believe im not gonna graduate high school bc of english!! WTFFF??

Kris with a K: does mr jackass hates me that much? huh? tell me he hates me!!

Dudess: He hates you...

Kris with a K: GAH I FCKING NEW IT

The boy let out the cutest little laugh and messaged back:

RussianBoy: The questions were brutal. I'm glad John made me stay up all night studying. If I get less than a B he's gonna kick my ass.

Dudess: Ilya... dude... your stepdad isn't that bad...

Ilya, the Russian Boy, sighed and muttered to himself, "Only when he's drunk."

RussianBoy: He'll still kick my ass tho.

The last passenger to step into the same train compartment as Ilya was an old homeless man with a cane. Ilya watched him looking for a seat. Nobody offered to help him, a helpless old man with a walking cane, not even when the train started moving and the poor man almost fell.

That left a scar on the sweet boy's heart.

What's wrong with people?

Ilya stood up and shouted to get the old man's attention.

"Excuse me, sir. Excuse me."

He was a little far away, but he finally heard him.

Ilya motioned for him to take his seat.

"You can sit here if you like."

The man smiled and limped towards that empty seat. He nodded gratefully to the kid and then sat down.

"Thanks."

Ilya nodded back with a smile and left to find a pole to grip. Only a few stops later and he was feeling drowsy—a direct consequence of his previous sleepless night.

The ride took a little longer than he expected to find another empty seat. 

The train suddenly stopped, and Ilya almost fell. He had closed his eyes and napped standing up but was able to grip the pole before hitting the ground.

He breathed out in relief. When he raised his head he spotted an empty seat by the window. He took it and made himself comfortable for the rest of the ride.

Ilya fell fast asleep.

An announcement was heard through the speakers:

"This is the last stop. All passengers, please exit the train."

It played over and over again until the boy snapped his eyes open in panic.

"Fuck!" He quickly grabbed his bag and jolted up to his feet. "Oh no, no, no."

The train was empty, except for him and the old man, who was also sleeping. Ilya headed to the open doors while nervously checking his phone. There were eleven missed calls from John and five angry messages. The time on his screen showed 3:02. Only two hours left until sunset.

"He's gonna kill me," he said as he passed the old man.

Ilya opened the first of John's messages as he stepped out of the train moments before the doors started closing.

"No!" a gruff voice alerted Ilya to look behind him. "Not this stop!"

"Huh?"

A hand viciously grabbed Ilya's hoodie and almost pulled him back into the train. It was the old man. His eyes were wide and crazy. He held the doors with one hand and tried to drag Ilya inside with the other.

BANG!

"Aaaahhhh!" the old man screamed and let go of the boy.

Ilya covered his ears and screamed, dropping his phone as a result of the loud gunshot.

When he looked up, he saw the doors of the train closing, and behind them, through the transparent windows, he glimpsed the old man. His hand was bleeding badly.

On the platform laid two severed fingers.

I hope you liked the first chapter? :D

Stay tuned for more weekly (or twice-a-week) chapters this summer!

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