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The blond sucks in air and the dry air stings his nostrils and tightens his chest. He squints his eyes, panting and searching for an empty lot to sit at. He kneels down and presses his back against a stone wall of a broken-down house. Dirt flows along dry winds, dirtying the poor kid.

He stares down at the ground with vacant eyes, blindly fiddling with his fingers as the sounds of people walking around wash over him.

‘Is this my last?’ He thinks about how long and how far he’s traveled on foot away from a building he grew up in. It’s not necessarily what a home would feel like, so he believes. Just like the current situation he’s gotten himself into, he feels like nothing and nobody.

He scrunches his dirtied nose in thought about his identity; a young boy without a place of his own who’s going to die and no one would care or know.

‘I’m just broken.’ Having these sort of feelings of trying to process one’s own life and existence is only a concept. No one ever thinks about these things and everyone continues to stay around the planet until their Last.

‘No, this isn’t true. Why should I care. I’ve made it this far and I’m not going to leave it at that.’ He runs his fingers through greasy blond locks, coughing. His eyes are heavy and he wishes to sleep away all this dryness and heat but it hurts.

Something tall looms over him and he slaps his hands on the pavement. He glances up, eyes focusing at a hand. His sight follows upward and his eyes meet with a young man’s smiling face.

 

Without a minute to lose, he grins at him and firmly takes his hand. The young man pulls him up from the ground and the blond does his best to pat the dirt off his clothes.

The meaning of life is fickle as well as destiny and fate. He never expected for another being to notice him. Especially acknowledge his existence and be confronted.

Other citizens walk around, more people surrounding the streets to do what fate had told them to do. The blue-haired male converses with the blond and leads him to an area elsewhere. The two stand in front of a small neighborhood. A brunette exits her house and meets up with a blonde. Another being pops out, a tealette from a house of her own.

“I’m recruiting people into homes. This one is yours.” The blue-haired male starts, pointing at the blond’s home.  “That house is mine.” The bluette points at another building.

“Thanks.” the blond replies and walks ahead. He leaves the stranger behind and enters his ‘home.’ He walks around and memorizes what room is located where. Not that it’s possible to get lost. It’s a small but decent home. There’s a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a great room.

‘It’s a perfect square. Thank god the water here works.’ He searches through the cabinets and doesn’t find much. His arm reaches out for a cup and jumps in front of the faucet to fill his cup with water. The blond then heads to another room for a shower. The cold water refreshes him and he looks down to see a pool of brown water. The blond showers for ten minutes more and leaves to his bedroom in a towel. He searches inside a closet and to his surprise, there are pairs of plain clothes waiting to be worn. He slips into them and heads off to bed for a long nap.

Hours later, he’s called out to meet up with everyone at the young man’s house for dinner. The bluette is nowhere in sight and the small group of girls think aloud on who’s going to cook. The blond raises his hand and heads to the kitchen to prepare a meal with whatever he can find. It takes him roughly an hour and everything is set at the table.

“What are your names?” the brunette begins.

 “Miku,” the tealette responds.

“Rin,” replies the blonde.

“Len,” the blond answers last and sits at the table. He faces the young man who’s just arrived. The bluette pierces his dinner. Len hears a faint scrape against the plate.

“I, my name? I wasn’t given one.” The young man pushes his plate away. “I feel kind of full.”

Len raises a brow and opens his mouth. He wants to ask if there’s anything he can call him but the look the bluette gives him a reason to keep his mouth shut. The blond stuffs his face with vegetables and a strip of meat.

“I don’t like how this tastes, it’s so plain. It doesn’t taste good at all.”

 

The young man mumbles to himself and Len overhears. The blond looks down at his plate to see strips of carrots, leaves of spinach, slices of cherry tomatoes, and a pile of large slices of meat.

'You know, every day you say this is no good, this isn't delicious, this, that, and all kinds of crap. We took you in and you should be grateful for the fact that we put food on your plate! Suck it up and eat your food.' Len could hear one of his parents in a past scenario back when he lived with them.

"Well then, screw you. I'm not gonna cook food to make it look flashy. That's too much work. Just cooking for a picky person is a lot of work already." Len peers up from his plate and reveals his teeth in a frown. "Just add whatever you want on it and it'll be good enough for a person like you." Len adds on.

The bluette shoves his plate to Len. "Oh, so you made this? If you like your own cooking, eat the rest of it." The young man looks away from Len and rests his head on his palm. "What else is there to add? There's no sauce or spice." The blue-haired male continues on and refuses eye contact with the blond fellow.

Len leaves the table and searches for the cabinet of spices and sauce. He returns with a handful; mustard, ketchup, a bottle of rosemary, and hot sauce.

"You want something? You got it. Just hurry it up and pick something." Len shoves the condiments to the bluette. The young man picks up the bottle of hot sauce and Len returns the rest of the condiments into their unit. Once again he seats himself and Len taps on the table's surface to grab the young man's attention.

"Look at me when you're talking to me, alright?" Len stares at the young man.

The young man looks up from his plate, slowly chewing on a piece of meat drenched in hot sauce. "This doesn't taste any better. Everything's dry because you didn't use any sauces or spices to begin with." The young man retorts and shoves the plate towards Len again.

Len grows slightly frustrated from trying to please this guy. "Then go cook something to your liking and I'll be the judge of that." The blond raises his head and the young man scoots out from the table.

"There won't be anything to judge, Len. I can't cook at all." The young man pushes his chair under the table. He leaves to his bedroom for an hour while the remaining people finish their dinner. Plates get washed and scraps are thrown away.

The bluette meets everyone at the doorway and says goodnight to them. Len is the last person to stand. The two boys catch each other’s eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Len says.

"Er, yea. Yea. I'll see you tomorrow." The young man scratches the back of his head and stares a second longer. Len leaves the house with the blue-haired male all alone at the doorway.

"Sorry for earlier." He mutters to himself without the blond to hear his apology.