Mind Over Matter | KLANCE

ONE: New Person, Same Mistakes

"That'll be two dollars and twenty-seven cents."

"Mhm," Keith handed over the exact change to the cashier of the sketchy Stop&Shop, getting a distrusting glare from the stout, bearded man in front of him. "Just give me the fucking ramen," he snatched it out of the bagger's hands, hustling out of the packed store as fast as his weak legs could manage.

The twelve-pack of noodles was his lifeline the past few months, living off of whatever income he could get from selling clothes or glasses that he smuggled out of shopping malls, which wasn't as much as he made back home. He figured that more people wouldn't have as much money living in Brooklyn, but he was completely wrong: everyone he encountered pretty much had some source of money, or illegally made it happen to pay the bills. Keith, however, was not only jobless, he also went down the illegal path and still made no money.

Here he was, nineteen in the middle of the night, stumbling blindly in the crosswalks from lack of sleep, and barely able to cover the costs of his education at Pratt.

"Watch where you're going, idiot," A stranger scolded him for accidentally stepping on the back of his shoe, nudging him too forcefully for it being a trivial thing. Silently apologizing, Keith grounded himself again, nearly losing his balance from the light touch of the unknown person. The light flashed green for the cars to go, the once-frozen traffic picking up speed once again, appearing bleary and smudged to the sleep-deprived boy on the edge of the sidewalk.

Stay awake for dinner at least, you stupid ass... he mentally yelled at himself, blinking a few times for the sake of him not passing out in the middle of the street – he spent money on ramen for a reason, and that was because he wasn't going to skip dinner again tonight when he hasn't ate in two days.

Keith anxiously tapped the tip of his tattered Converse on the sidewalk, reminding himself to stay awake and alert in a time like this. Cars were dangerous, and even if he had his license from way back when, he refused to drive, nor own, a single car. His paranoia always won in the end. Shaking the thought out of his head, his eyes focused on the stoplight ahead, waiting impatiently for the pedestrians to be able to cross again.

Couples and businessmen strolled passed him with no regard, a few people bumping into him and not even acknowledging they had. Who would care for someone like me, anyways? Crossed his mind once again, his heavy eyelids getting harder to keep open. A neon-green color flashed right by him, Keith confusing it for the little pedestrian artwork on the stoplight that signaled it was time to walk over to the other side.

Before he could make it onto the road, he tripped over the uneven pavement, slamming flat on his already-bruised face, managing to fall asleep in record timing from the impact.

--

"....ey, are you alright? Hey, buddy, you can't snooze off in the middle of these streets, ya' wishing for a death wish?"

Peeling his eyelids open, Keith's blurry vision focused on the person thrashing him awake, a lanky boy smelling of garlic and jalapeno peppers gradually becoming clearer and clearer with each blink. "Thank God, you weren't some corpse undergoing rigor mortis in front of our shop." The stranger's relieved chuckle cancelled out the worried expression they wore, helping the semi-unconscious boy up from the ground. "Let's get you cleaned up, your forehead is bleeding," He licked his left thumb, wiping off the splashes of red coating his eyebrow.

Nodding silently, Keith was guided along by the taller boy, a thin yet firm arm snaked around his lower back to keep him standing. Whatever spices the man was using continuously wafted into his stinging nose, giving off a spicy sensation enough to make mucus drip out. "Fuck, a nosebleed on top of that?"