milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

So, yesterday was traumatizing enough that he's sort of hiding again, half-invisible and behind a tree. Hoping very sincerely that the police aren't out to get him, which he's still half-convinced they are.

The most visible part of him is the vivid red blood, strikingly coloured where the rest of him tends to wash out.

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Santi nods, and steps a little more out from behind the tree because if he's going to run away he should do it now before Santi starts liking him and then gets lonely.

Gavroche is generally a brave kid, and he's seen scarier things than Santi.

...not many sadder, though. His smile fades a little when he sees him properly, and his hand rises unconsciously to the scar on his own head, but he doesn't run.

"...what's your name?" he asks, after a moment.

Sounding kind of proud, because he's not running away and he's asking. And he's his own age, maybe a little bit older (but this is pretty cool.)

"Santi." He smiles. "I'm Gavroche."

Santi returns the smile, a bit, and nods.

He points at the bar. Asking, Gavroche is from in there?

Gavroche follows the line of his hand, then turns back and nods.

"I came from in there. My house's attached to it."

Santi nods. He sometimes wonders what it's like in there.

Gavroche glances that way again and then back at the boy-ghost, frowning.

"But there's other dead people in there..."

He covers his forehead with a hand, the cracked slice. Blood seeps out from under his fingers anyways. And his eyes close, because they're weird too, black where they should be white with yellow rings.
Even hiding both those things he still looks horrible, dead, tragic.

"...oh, you think they'll be scared of you?" He nods, understanding... but he doesn't like it. "Isn't it lonely out here, though?"

Dropping his hands, he shrugs, because it's not good. People have already run off screaming.

"You don't have to be", the boy says firmly. "I'll come back out here."

Santi gives him a big smile. Gavroche is so cool.

Gavroche grins back. He likes this kid, and feels just a bit sorry for him. If he can make things better, he's decided, he should.

"Twelve", he tells Santi, then pauses and shrugs. "I think."

Santi's eyes widen. He's older than he thought.

He holds up nine fingers, for himself. Which is a lie because he's eight and knows it, but Gavroche is old.

Gavroche has no way to know he's lying, and wouldn't care anyway. Not for something minor like that.

"Where're you from?" is his next question.

The orphanage there. It's not a nice place, and he doesn't sound particularly homesick.

"Oh. I'm from Paris", he offers. "In France. But I live in London Below now."

The orphanage is a days walk out of any city, because it's a secret, so he doesn't get more specific than that.

Paris sounds cool, though. He isn't sure what London Below is.

"Yeah", he confirms. "It's like... a city under the city. Most people don't know it's there. The House is there."

Santi nods, quickly. They have something like that. He touches his chest, because that's where he haunts. Nobody goes down there any more, actually. And it's not the same thing, but to his understanding of it...

"I'd show you", Gavroche says carefully, watching the younger boy, "but you'd have to meet Tom or Door first. It's their house."

Santi nods, and accepts that as a reason not to. He doesn't really want to meet anyone. It sounds like too much.

Santi, surprise, is rather shy.

Gavroche nods when he doesn't say anything, reading the silence well enough.

"Okay. Has anyone else come out to see you?"

He nods, excitedly.

He mispronounces all the names.