“Hey,” he said to the boy with messy purple hair in the mouth of the alleyway.  Relying only on the light from the failing liquor store sign across the street, Hansol could barely make out the other.  As it was, he had sensed him there.  Already forming a map of the other’s state of mind, he sat down, echoing his gaze at the bottom of the opposite wall. 

“Did you eat yet?” he asked. 

Judging by B Joo’s current emotional detachment he had made decent money that day.  There was a familiar emptiness that hung around the younger and pressed against Hansol's senses.  Hansol thought survival was the most important thing, but what the younger did never agreed with him.  Maybe he was being a hypocrite, since he used his ability to make money too, but it was different with B Joo.  Whatever money B Joo made would sit in his pocket the rest of the night.   He spent so much energy in making it he couldn’t even use it. 

Exhaling heavily, Hansol got to his feet.   “Alright, then.”  With one last look just to be sure B Joo was breathing, he turned and walked off across the street.

When he returned some time later, two drinks in hand, B Joo hadn’t moved.  This time when Hansol’s shadow fell across the younger boy, he looked up.  The eyes that met Hansol's own were unsettling.  They lingered somewhere between resentment and need. 

Hansol sat down.

The change in angle softened the look on B Joo’s face:  either that or he’d lost the energy to maintain it.

Wordlessly, he held out one of the drinks.

B Joo paused, then reached over and took the offering with a heavy hand—there was no use in nursing wounded pride when trying to surive out on the street.   

Leaving time for the atmosphere to settle, Hansol opened his own bottle and took a deep sip.  He was good at reading situations, but it seemed to be especially true when it came to B Joo.  He was the only person Hansol had ever met like himself. 

“The Ciphers have been restless up on the North end,” he said conversationally, taking another sip. “Lucky for me that means lots of new gigs running messages and stuff back and forth.  Seokjin seems worried, though.”

Hansol had no real attachment to these people but news was news. The only folks he concerned himself with were the ones like B Joo and himself:  the ones without connections.  The last thing he wanted was to get associated with one particular gang.  It was bad for business. 

“I don’t know if you heard, but I settled a pretty big deal for Seokjin the other week.  He offered me a place with him but I turned him down.” He had started out bragging as a joke, but he couldn’t help his tone falling into sentimentality. “We look out for ourselves well enough, right?” 

They did—more than Hansol had meant them too.  They had only met two years back but Hansol wasn’t afraid to admit that B Joo might even have saved him once or twice.  Hansol had a great track record for his job in a town where “shoot the messenger” wasn’t just a cliché, but that didn’t mean he’d never run into trouble.  People hired him because he was good at what he did.  They assumed his success was from not caring about party affiliations.  What they didn’t know was that he had a peculiar knack for negotiating situations where emotions ran high.  B Joo knew, though.  He also knew that sometimes when the emotions and the tension in the city got to be too much Hansol would spiral into his mind.  He’d saved him a few times in that way too.  They didn't need each other, of course.  That would be too dangerous.

Usually they just talked like this.  Hansol thought B Joo didn’t hate that.  It could get lonely out there.  Plus, talking wouldn’t lose B Joo a full night’s pay like the first time Hansol had tried to return the ‘thanks for saving my life,’ favor. In his defense, the situation was easy to misinterpret.  There weren’t too many times a sketchy looking guy would have their hands on a kid like B Joo. That was how Hansol had learned about B Joo’s power and the terrible idea for a job he’d invented for himself.  That was how he’d learned he wasn’t the only one out there who was different.

The thought that they might even have needed each other was terrifying—for both of them (he could tell).  Relying on people was a difficult task when they both had a past out there bu were still living on the streets. 

When he’d first met B Joo the boy had been different:  softer, maybe.  He hadn’t been on the streets too long back then.  Things had changed a lot.

Trying to stay away from that line of thought, he suddenly mumbled, “Seokjin’s crew has a stupid name anyway.  Why would anyone want to be called a Boyscout?”

Picking up his own bottle, which he had opened without Hansol noticing, B Joo took a drink to that.

Hansol echoed him in the hopes that pressing the bottle to his mouth would hide his triumphant smile.

He ended up messing it up by choking and trying to cover it up with an exaggerated sound of satisfaction like it was the best iced tea he’d had in his entire life and not some crap he’d bought at a broken down liquor store.  B Joo shot him a look but the wry judgment in his face made the animation returning to him all the more evident.  Hansol started to grin.

“It’s a miracle people hire you at all,” B Joo finally spoke.

Hansol bumped B Joo’s shoulder to encourage the half smile forming on his face.

He started to feel like his whole body was glowing.  Inspired by the new fit of energy, he fished a package of peanuts out of his pocket.  He turned to offer some to B Joo only to discover the empty weariness from before had started to creep over him again.

“I should go,” B Joo told him with a sad smile, not looking like he was capable of going anywhere.

Feeling the energy buzzing at his fingers, Hansol realized what had happened.  Guilt turned his mouth into an ‘O’ he barely forced into words, “. . . No, I’m sorry, it’s me.  I should go.”  He hated that this kept happening.  He scrambled around himself, fumbling somehow to arrange the only two items he had.  The stolen energy buzzing through his body was too much for him to sort through.  “I didn’t even realize I was doing it again.” 

“It’s not your fault,” B Joo sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. 

It was a useless lie.  Hansol was the one who could see emotions like comet trails and take energy from people who only had so much to give.  Hansol pulled his energy from others.  It was the only way he could get it, really.  His body knew that and didn’t ask him or anyone else for permission.  In a city with so many people, a small sip from each passerby was harmless.  They never knew he was doing it.  But B Joo spent all day selling happiness and pleasure (or whatever other feeling junkies were willing to buy) to strangers who neither knew nor cared how much it drained him.  He didn’t need a friend who made it worse.  If reading emotions was Hansol’s gift then taking energy without meaning to was his curse.  Of course it had to affect B Joo the most:  the only person who understood.

“Do you want the peanuts?”  The words tripped out of his mouth and bumped into each other on the way down.

B Joo rocked his head no against the brick.

As if his body was on autopilot three steps ahead of his mind, Hansol practically shoved them into the ledge of B Joo’s crossed arms.

“Here.”

Without another thought, he walked away.

When he could no longer hear the quickly retreating footsteps, B Joo opened his eyes and looked down at the package of peanuts.  A small smile played on his face but then it was gone.  He had given some of it away as a tax for living in a city with too many people, some of it he had sold for the money in his pocket, and the last part was escaping down the poorly lit street.

A/N Okay so it's been ages, but I finally made real, actual progress on the main story after finishing my thesis.  I've had this chapter written since the very beginning but I was saving it because this is the first of three parts to the prequel that leads into the main story!  It's probably and confusing and whatever, but I need to post this and the other two parts before I can start posting the main story (I have like 8 chapters in a row done for the main so if I post once a week that means I have two months of buffer for me to continue writing without so much pressure and I'll be way more likely to actually finish.)

When I do start the main story, Leaving Home will not be discontinued.  There are plenty of backstory and sidestory pieces that are not part of the main story's plot but are from the same universe that I will be continuing to post here.  Thank you all for your interest and patience!  Let me know if this is bad or confusing etc.!