Name: Some people see it, but I don't. There's a way about his neck that outlines the way he moves lips much rejective to socialism,"I'm Paul Myth, what's your business?"
My objective isn't to be rude or intrusive with my questions. He came out of my closet once, but this time we ran into each other on a dark street lit only by shards of lamp lights and distant porches.
Age: I shake the meaning of darkness off us and wonder, are we going to get lost in here?
His age also seems to be a hole darker than this one.
Paul says, "I'm around 14 going on 17, resolve me of the complications because I'm no time traveler."
Gender: I've come to know him as a feminine teen who never realized such just made him prettier. Paul's voice overcame the sensations of self perception. Its soft static provided a guarded deep sense of self that answered, "boy and a half."
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Looks: "Stand a little more in the light, so I can see you better." I instruct.
"Okay."
(When I look at Paul I see somebody suited to their inner design. His body is long, lanky, and nimble to boot slightly sharpened muscles. The skin on this body is pale, shadowed with trim details that have since molded over time. Both eyes may remain dark with honey-brown that are much like Paul's plentiful, but thin hair. All these raveny locks are usually slicked back with cobwebs and wolf spit while at times strands sneak out to play otherwise. Paul is usually someone who enjoys laying low, this means looking the least bit interesting. His existence is by standing to another person as they themselves might look at him as a stranger. Someone to be casually dismissed or avoided.)
Wears: "My hoodie isn't bright, isn't eye catching. Just how I like it. The midnight-blue color suits me and how I live, doesn't it?" Paul asks me while looking towards a darker background and taking interest, "anything else I wear is ripped up and that's not bad either. Shoes, jeans, sweats, nobody gets something in one piece out here."
His finer details are mysterious, like the pair of fishnet gloves he wears. They're black as shade like the bowels of Paul's hoodie. Instead of fabric I only see this immense nothingness inside, and it tells me there are details I'm not even seeing clearly.
Personality: Paul greets me with silence like he's thinking really hard about himself. This might be true. If someone doesn't solicit a way of knowing others, they in turn don't understand how to know themselves.
He tries to direct me through a series of nightly observations, saying first, "some might call me self absorbed, but I'm more focused than absorbed. I never talk to people so I instead look inside myself to see who I really am. I mostly find bullshit that way."
"Other than that I'm fairly outgoing, to be honest. Bigger people used to make me quiver, then I grew up and realized that getting wise was almost about getting mean... but it wasn't all." Paul continued, "I stand against people who conspire my demise from a look and react to them in that sense because I think that's fair."
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Sexuality: Paul looked away from my background and instead focused his amused eyes on me, "I've become very picky. It depends on who shows up, you know?"
The unanticipated confidence makes me smile. He smiles back before looking towards the dark sky and contemplating who might be suitable to walk with tonight.
Random Facts:
"Loners gotta be alone. That's what cowboys say when they're stuck up and don't want to talk anymore." Paul informs me, hands in either hoodie pocket as they ravage for unimportant goodies.
As far as I know, the hoodie he wears is home to four wolves. Two brother wolves, two sister wolves, and they make up an extensive part of Paul's life. From the beginning of being in need from environmental suffering, that hoodie had hung on a twisted branch of dead tree. It's black figure was but silhouetted by moonlight. The fabric's curse latched to his body and with it the four spirits.
After a long time balancing their unintentional partnership, Paul decides whether he wants their protection physically, mentally, rarely both. Basic respect follows a capability for balance or harmony. These wolves are described by Paul as angry, vengeful, but also extremely thoughtful as individuals.
Nobody tips me to a specific family or dwelling other than the Gladus High dorms, where he lives as a slummie for the most part. Friends are close by, but not outright accepting of his less than classy ways of mingling.
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Scenario....one...
Paul put himself on a bench and waited for a moment in the shade while he thought about what to do about somebody who'd cheated him drugs. It was easier to be the person with good bundles than someone buying. Paul was going to be a drug dealer soon. Good deals were coming down and he felt taking advantage of that would be extremely smart. He got his money breaking into gym lockers, desks, lockers in general. Combinations were easy and so was acting like he didn't exist. Today Paul wore his dark hoodie open to reveal a slender waist covered in a tank the color of dark wood stain.
Pale skin were mirrored through darkness of the tank where holes were. His pants weren't unscathed either. Loose jeans caught on everything and he didn't mind wearing something down to the bare bones. He yawned while looking towards the pot he'd managed to get, wondering if it would be any good even to resell for something better. Birds rustled in the distance, and Paul looked to see who bothered them indifferently.
