V (boyxboy short stories)

VVith The Juggle.

     Davin barely rolled his eyes since the juggle was becoming problematic, what with having to climb a step every five seconds. "The only ones that are inhuman are us, for avoiding them like the plague."

     "They are the plague... " Lyell murmured.

     "No, they're not. They're marginalized people with no rights. It's sick!" he complained. "Can you imagine not having the right to touch anything in fear to spread stuff? Like trees, flowers... juggling balls!"

     He was a good-hearted man, he really was, and episodes such as The Cloaks bothered him to no end.

     However, he was so distracted by frustration that a ball slipped out of the rhythm, and went hoping down the stairs.

     Davin watched with a gasp as it quickly went downwards, and shoved the other three in the small bag hanging by his hip before going after it.

     Leather was really expensive, and those balls had cost him a week worth of meal, so he ignored Lyell's shouting- it was so loud that its echo followed him all the way to the centre of the town, a good two minutes of running later.

     And then Lyell's voice was replaced by a chorus of low bell rings.

     He'd reached an old motel, where The Cloaks were stopping to rest for the night- the motel was in horrid condition and made of wood, since it would be burnt after the diseased left. Davin stopped to catch his breath just near a bush, eyes glued to the leather ball that kept rolling away with the occasional hop.

     And then it finally hit an obstacle. A foot.

     Davin watched the cloaked figure look down, the material hiding any skin from view. The person was tall, the cloak hanging loose on their body, which Davin deduced to be slim and weak by the slump of the shoulders and bow of the head.

     Davin vaguely realized he must've caught the disease already. There was no turning back, and as he watched the figure ahead, he knew that they might just be the guide to his new life. Yes, a new life.

     Davin was adjusted to changes, and believed that everything happened for a reason.

     There was a reason his father had once attempted juggling with oranges to stop baby Davin from crying, there was a reason homeless Davin was so occupied juggling that he had stumbled upon Lyell, and there was a reason that Davin messed up a juggle just now, the ball leading him here.

     He trusted The Juggle.

     The figure stopped from walking, the rest of the group going ahead in the motel. It leaned down, a hand escaping from the long sleeve.

     It was covered by a grey fingerless glove. The white, bony fingers hovered above the leather ball shakily for a good minute, but then the figure stood up, head still hanging low, and the disappointment and curiosity was visible in their body language.

     Davin walked out from his spot and approached the figure silently, his naked feet barely audible over the sound of leafs blown by wind, in the tall, old willow tree just near the figure.

     "You can keep it..." he murmured with a kind smile.

     The gasp that followed sounded masculine, which surprised him considering how fragile the figure looked.

     His head snapped upwards, the bony fingers tugging his hood to hide any facial skin, safe for the lips and jaw. His lower lip was swollen and the skin on his mouth chapped, and the jaw was well defined, above a slim neck.