"What's wrong?" The kids' hands were fragile and thin, yet they were held with all the love of a mother. He was holding him, his large sleeves rolled back.
"What's your name.." the young yet raspy voice asked, the dimly lit shack covering its face with the dark.
Their surroundings were grubby and damp, with many cracks and broken furniture displayed in this old abandoned home. The whole place smelled of old wood and there was no wind to display it.
The kid's nails were chipped and his fingers bruised from bites and getting stepped on, yet the man didn't know that.
"Mike! But you can call me anything, really." Maybe if the room wasn't so dark, he could see how much his smile meant to the kid.
"Are you hungry? I don't have any food… I think. But I could get you something!" The offer was genuine, as he already subtly began to scan the rooù for anything edible.
"You'll.. go out and get me something?" The child timidly asks, as its hands begin to retreat from the man's, fading into the shadows, barely leaving a silhouette visible to the eyes.
"I'll try, but I don't think I have any money... but my friends taught me a trick, so don't worry!" His friends… But who exactly ? He slowly began to uncrouch his legs, shaking from his own weight. He dusted off his rather luxurious attire, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of the little one.
"I have money. Take it." "Where?" "Find it."
Despite more questions, the kid stopped responding and Mike began to search slowly. His sleeves often got in the way, so much that he started getting tempted to tear them off.
The place was filled with such a large amount of dust, making him cough a lot, but he kept looking. The furniture was old and severed, yet he made sure to pry everything open with care, until he finally gave up, seemingly having already checked the entire place.
"I can't" Mike came to a halt. When he turned back to the child, it suddenly held an old leather pouch, seemingly filled with something.
"Oh you found it!" He laughed, clearly unaware of his situation.
When he slowly approached, he knelt down to carefully extract the pouch from the child's shaky fingers.
"What do you want to eat? Some meat on sticks? Maybe you like veggies.." he began to ponder as the child's silhouette shook its head.
There were no more answers.
"Hey?" Mike calls out to confirm, yet there were no more responses.
"I'll be quick then." He made his way towards the broken sliding door and watched it fall apart when he tried to push it open. Feeling guilty he slid outside, ensuring not to step on its fragments. Mike's surroundings were purely water with only a broken bridge, leading him towards another place.
His jumps were precise. Mike's hair glowed in the light, luscious and well maintained, a flower crown resting unknowingly on his head. His longer legs made the leaps much easier and precise.
Once on the other shore, he began to follow the empty houses of what seemed to be a former fishermen village, looking for anyone or anything with life. The smell of food hopefully soon led him back towards a small fishing dock, far more lively.
The path Mike took was very gravely taken over by grass. Each step was uneven, sending his balance back and forth, challenging his balance.
The place he got to was very lively, yet when he arrived, he could feel some people turn silent to glance at him in suspicion.
Everywhere he looked, people were dressed in tight clothes, showing off their builds, some carrying cargo while others were simply resting. It was rather busy.
It was none of his concern, he had a mission to carry. When finally arriving at a small fish stall, he noticed some already made fish sticks, with no customers nearby.
'So much fish-themed.'
He carefully approached the salesman, "How much for three?"
"Do the likes of you not have better food to eat than this?" A scoff caught Mike off guard, the words left him rather lost.
Seeing the innocence in the stranger's eyes, the salesman sighed. He was built rather muscular, for a fisherman, yet again, it seemed like everyone around him had a similar build...
"So..? How much?" Mike confirms to ask.
"Excuse me!?"
The salesman was enraged.
Why is he so mad at me! Is it the sleeves..?
No one ever was outright mad at him outside of… this person? on the day they met.
His hand raised to his chin, lost in thought before finally looking into his pouch, there was not much, ten silvers and thirty copper.
'Maybe I can find someone else.' Before he could turn to leave, the salesman called out.
"Ten cop"
Finally!
The exchange was quick, despite a mild inconvenience and Mike could feel a lot of curious eyes on him as he began to make his way back.
"I'm home!" Mike was already announcing his return when he wasn't even past the broken bridge yet.
"I mean, I'm back! Sorry!!" Old habits die hard.
When finally reaching the shattered door, he carefully moves past it. Even with some light shining through, he still sees nothing but black.
"Kiddo?" Mike called out yet no response.
"I must've taken too long…" He pondered to himself while carefully approaching an almost usable table, dusting off its surface with his sleeve before reaching for a plate he saw earlier and placing the fish sticks down.
After a moment of silence, understanding the kid was probably away, he put down the pouch next to the food. Mike took his leave with a pinched mouth.
Looking at the sea, he took a deep breath of fresh air. The wind seemed to blow his hair soothingly as he searched his pockets.
In them was a beautiful comb seemingly covered in pretty gems, almost looking as if made of lavish silver. That's all.
When finally dusting off his head he feels something soft, something blooming. He carefully took off a flower crown he was wearing, its flowers were freshly picked and the vines elegantly intervened with each other.
Truly the work of a professional.
"Well.. I'd feel bad just throwing this away." He held the crown as if fragile to his brute touch, the colours seemed to be a radiating yellow and gold, followed by a beautiful blue haze of a glow, neatly held together by a beautiful green of the flowers' many stems.
After being lost in admiration, Mike carefully took the comb out of his pockets and started to straighten out his hair once more, along with ridding himself from all this grime.
When finally dust-free and what he thought looked presentable, he carefully placed the crown back onto his head, making sure to adjust it a few times before finally taking his hands off of it.
Mike then felt himself burst out into laughter. "I must've looked ridiculous to the owner!" His water reflection was staring back at him, his eyes matching the warm yellow of the setting sun, its light blending in with his magnificent crown.