Chapter 1

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He was cold, he was tired.

The winter was coming and it was clear that there would be no mercy this year. The fact that he was really close to the water probably didn't help at all. The lake that he was always near made some breezes colder than if he had still been near that building he was housing across the street from before. But he prefered this scenery better than that god damn brick wall.

The brown and orange leave were turning into a frosty blue. Much like the tips of Gerard's hair in fact - only difference is that the tips of his hair is white because it had grown out of his last hair dye, showing the natural brown hair suddenly transitioning to white. While the leaves, they were because of the transitioning of the seasons.

Winter was by far Gerard's most hated out of the the four seasons.

Food was harder to come by as stores were closed more often because of snow and the holidays coming up, one after another. Water was hard to get because if Gerard was lucky, he sometimes would manage to find a water bottle someone wasted or dropped, but in the winter, the water bottles wouldn't mean much to him if they were frozen and had nowhere to thaw out.

He was hungry, he was in pain.

He wanted, no, needed food. He just hoped whatever he managed to get his hands on was warm if he got anything at all tonight.

He didn't have enough meat on his bones to make the winter somewhat bearable. He didn't have enough clothes on his back to keep him warm. Everything he managed to scrounge was either thrown away because of homeless sweeps or stolen. And it was never easy getting anything back. Especially without money. That was common sense.

He was dirty, he was lonely.

He hasn't spoke for awhile. Not because he didn't want to, it's just that - there wasn't really many people who would uphold a decent conversation, either that, or no one wanted to speak with the likes of him. Everyone looked down on people like him.

Sometimes out of pity, Sometimes out of spite.

No one really liked the homeless because they always assume the worst of them, but no one really took the time to listen to one of their stories either. And honestly, sometimes Gerard feels that was all he wanted. For someone to take the time to listen to what he had to say.


There was so much more to this young boy that no one looks twice at, and it they did, it was to spare an undeserved glare. There were some people who completely disregarded the fact that he was even there at all in fear of feeling guilty of not wanting to donate. There were others who would just laugh or scoff at him like he didn't have feelings too. 

His hand was held out, waiting and hoping for some sort of spare change, but his palm was empty. There was a jagged and worn cardboard with the words all I want is a sketchbook and pencils in hopes that maybe someone would like to make a homeless aspiring artist's day.

The boy had the skills, just not the supplies nor the money to get them.

His hand was getting surprisingly heavy considering there was nothing in it. Maybe it was doubt that was weighing his hand down. The boy buried his chin into his knees as the wind blew a bit harder, blowing his piece of cardboard away from him. He shivered and made no attempt to get it. His joints were too stiff. But it wasn't like he was going to get anything anyways.


Gerard let his hand fall limp onto the park bench, deciding to call a quits for today. It was clear that he would be getting no income. Not tonight.

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