[open] crack log to pass the time?
Who: Gokudera and you!
What: He's sold everything. Now the last step is finding a home
Where: OUTSIDE A HOMELESS SHELTER
When: Now. Daytime.
It's the fourth day in a row that Gokudera has stopped by the homeless shelter from the pit. He spends most of his time outside, working from the early morning until the middle of the day, and using his earning for fresh food and water. The boy has spent little for himself, and given up most of his share for his boss. He's sold his clothes and accessories save for his Vongola ring to pay for his baths, and sometimes for his cigarettes.
Dirt is caked on over his pale, small body, the coal in his hair giving it a mottled gray tone. He looks filthy, and as he turns away from the door, a light catches his eye. He stops short as he finds what he'd thought to be a coin to be a wrapper. Gokudera sighs and brushes his hands together. Even these twelve-hour shifts a day hauling coal aren't earning him enough to get by.
The teen's dirty glare turns up to the building. It's nothing extraordinary compared to what he's seen back in Italy, but compared to the drab appearance of the cities' other structures, it's magnificent. There's a longing glimmer in his peridot eyes, and he feels drawn to the doors, but hesitates, pulling a hand away just as he reaches. This won't be the first time he's been turned away, and he really doesn't have much to lose, except for his pride. He can be found standing before those doors, looking for the life of him like he's conflicted; because he is.
What: He's sold everything. Now the last step is finding a home
Where: OUTSIDE A HOMELESS SHELTER
When: Now. Daytime.
It's the fourth day in a row that Gokudera has stopped by the homeless shelter from the pit. He spends most of his time outside, working from the early morning until the middle of the day, and using his earning for fresh food and water. The boy has spent little for himself, and given up most of his share for his boss. He's sold his clothes and accessories save for his Vongola ring to pay for his baths, and sometimes for his cigarettes.
Dirt is caked on over his pale, small body, the coal in his hair giving it a mottled gray tone. He looks filthy, and as he turns away from the door, a light catches his eye. He stops short as he finds what he'd thought to be a coin to be a wrapper. Gokudera sighs and brushes his hands together. Even these twelve-hour shifts a day hauling coal aren't earning him enough to get by.
The teen's dirty glare turns up to the building. It's nothing extraordinary compared to what he's seen back in Italy, but compared to the drab appearance of the cities' other structures, it's magnificent. There's a longing glimmer in his peridot eyes, and he feels drawn to the doors, but hesitates, pulling a hand away just as he reaches. This won't be the first time he's been turned away, and he really doesn't have much to lose, except for his pride. He can be found standing before those doors, looking for the life of him like he's conflicted; because he is.