The city never really rushed the underpass of East Trenlow, where the streetlamps flickered like dying starts and the wind stank of old oil and dry blood, two strangers found themselves drawn to the same place for entirely different reasons. Ashton crouched on the edge of a rooftop, a hood drawn low over his brow and a cigar smoldering between his fingers, though he had never smoked it. The glow of it lit against his cheek like a soft pulse. Steady, calm, controlled. Below him, the city bled in motion. Sirens hummed in the distance. A man shouted at no one. A bottle shattered. But Ashton wasn't watching Chaos tonight. He was watching a kid—or maybe not a kid, he couldn't tell. Walked into an alley like he owned the darkness inside it. That caught Ashton's attention. The figure moved with a strange kind of grace—deliberate, smooth like every step was part of something bigger. His energy didn't feel like someone looking for trouble... more like someone used to be living in it. Ashton flicked the cigarette away, stood, and silently dropped to the ground. The alley was quiet and narrow, its brick walls sweating old rain and bad memories. Trash bins lined one side, dented and rusted. Ashton moved slowly, hands in his hoodie pockets, boots soft on the broken concrete. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He let his presence announce itself. The only boy stopped. He turned. Sharp jawline, low-cut locs falling over one eye, and a scar ran from his temple to his cheek like it had been earned young and kept as a reminder. His clothes were simple: A black hoodie, faded jeans, and worn sneakers. But his eyes... The look of loaded cannons, dark and unreadable, as if he was always calculating, always bracing for the next bad thing. Ashton stopped a few feet away, slightly moving his head. "You lost, or do you just like alleys that smell of piss and regret?" " Could ask you the same." Said the boy. Ashton smirked. "Always lived in the quiet corners. What's your excuse?" The other boy paused, Then looked down. "Sometimes you just need space" Silence suffocated the two boys for the first time. Tense, but not hostile. Ashton leaned against the wall. "I- Name's Ashton. The boy hesitated as well "K- Khi." Ashton responded with "Cool name." Khi didn't respond, just stared into the shadows that consumed the alley, He looked dazed as if they were speaking to him. Ashton watched him for a moment. "You one of those guys that sees ghosts in the dark, or are you just tryna look mysterious" Khi's voice was low, protected. " I listen better in the dark." Ashton nodded slowly, Khi said something Ashton resonated with. "Yeah... me too." Khi shifted. Looking thinner up close, he wasn't malnourished—more like life hadn't been feeding him anything. Ashton recognized that look. He saw it every time he caught his reflection. They looked at each other through a cracked window. "What're you doing out here." Ashton asked. Khi hesitated. "Trying not to go home." That hit Ashton harder than expected. Ashton stared at the wall for a long beat. "Yeah... been there." Khi glanced at him, Expression unreadable. But something had softened—just a little. Khi felt understood. "You run with anyone." Khi asked. Ashton shook his head. "Don't trust crews." Khi smirked faintly. "Smart. Crews are loud. They get you killed." A gust of wind swept down the ally, lifting scraps of newspapers and moving empty cans. Ashton caught the glint of something in Khi's hand— a silver ring, worn and dull, Rolling between his fingers like a habit. Ashton pointed toward it. "That means something?" Khi looked down." Used to." As he slipped it into his pocket. Ashton didn't push. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper—a sketch of the city skyline he'd drawn weeks ago. Charcoal and faded pencil. He held out. Khi frowned. "What's that?" Ashton followed up with " A place I go when I can't go anywhere else. Figured someone like you might need one too." Khi stared at him for a long moment. "Why give it to me?" Ashton stood up and handed it to Khi. "You looked like you were standing on the edge of something. Thought maybe you'd want a way back." Khi took the paper. He didn't say thank you, but he didn't have to. The silence that followed was enough. They stood there for a while. Two strangers. Two broken mirrors not trying to fix each other—but not walking away either. Eventually, Ashton pushed off the wall. "If you ever want to see that view for real, meet me on the old rail bridge off Hillmore. Top of the freight line." Khi didn't respond immediately. "I might." Ashton nodded once, then disappeared back into the city. No goodbye. No dramatic exit. Just gone. Khi stood in the alley for a while, fingers clutching the sketch-like it was the first real thing anyone had handed him in years. That night would be the spark that lit a fire neither of them could ever put out. Two boys running from different ghosts. Destined to face worse but not alone.
