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Breathless	By : xCookingWinex Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Aiden Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Aiden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2
Wil woke up in the door way of Target; he knew he was homeless, but sleeping in front of Target was a step down, even for him. He stood up and stretched. The back of his trousers were damp and he cursed to himself; he was going to be walking around all day like he’d just pissed himself. The weather was one of the biggest hindrances in being homeless – it was never on your side. When he found a room to sleep in, it was warm and cloudless. When he couldn’t, it was damp and cold.
He wiped the back of his trousers off as much as he could, before standing up and walking off down the road. He didn’t have a structure to what he did, or a purpose. It was just about staying alive.
He peered into a shop window and saw a clock. 7.35 a.m. The city was waking up. He’d received weird looks and a couple of dollars from passers by. He debated whether or not to buy food or drugs with those dollars. He knew drugs would win out. He wasn’t hungry when he was high. After, maybe, but not during.
He kept squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he walked down the road, trying to get the sleep out. He’d only managed a couple of hours sleep before it was just became too uncomfortable. His body was telling him to lye down and never wake up, and that seemed appealing.
Two cops were walking down the road towards him. They start 7 a.m. sharp on this side of town – “trouble never sleeps”, they say. He turned on his heels and started to walk away from them. Officers made him nervous, even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
He could hear their footsteps getting faster, so he sped up too. He knew he should have stopped but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to get caught doing … nothing.
“Sir?” They called.
He took that as his cue to leave.
He sprinted as fast as he possibly could, inviting the cops to give chase. He could hear his foot steps pounding in his head and his heart in his throat. He just ran and ran. The only thing they could possibly get him for is possession, and even then it’d probably only be a caution. But he couldn’t risk it.
He rounded a corner, running into a middle age business woman as he did. She stumbled backwards, dropping her handbag and briefcase. He bent down and picked up her handbag and kept sprinting. He reached in, feeling around for her purse. Finding it, he chucked the handbag into the road, shoved the purse into his pocket and concentrated again on the road ahead.
He came to an apartment building. He ran up the fire exit stairs, hearing the cops behind him warning him off it. He ignored them.
He climbed through an open window into a dingy apartment. A woman holding a small baby screamed at the messy youth running through her home. He eventually found and ran out of her front door and towards the elevator. The doors to the lift were thin sheets of metal, very barely there. He prised them apart with ease. He looked into the shaft and saw the lift sitting just one floor below. He took his chance and jumped down on to it. It started to jolt and move upwards. He lifted the emergency hatch on top and climbed in. He took a minute to catch his breath. He knew the police wouldn’t be far behind. The lift slowed as it approached the next floor, and instead of waiting for it to stop, he just kicked out the thin metal door. He practically landed on the toes of a young woman waiting there.
“You might want to take the stairs,” he said cheekily, before sprinting off.
“Asshole.” The woman mumbled, following Wil down the stairs.
Alyn Walker had walked these stairs a hundred times, and she still hated them. The faint smell of urine and decay was not inviting. She hated living like a bum in a new town enough as it was, but being shoved into a shitty apartment building was like a kick in the face.
She’d reached the third floor when she heard panting breath. She rounded the corner to see the man who had kicked out the lift door crouching under a railing.
“Are you okay?” She asked, noticing the cut on his leg.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he repeated. “Did you see any cops?”
His had a feeling of de ja vu, thinking about early this morning when he had ran into that guy on the street. He had trouble remembering his name, even now.
She turned to look back up the stairs and saw no one, “Nope.”
He sighed in relief, leaning his head back on the graffiti covered wall, “shit.”
“In a bit of trouble?”
“You could say that.”
“Do you want to come back to my apartment?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at her. She closed her eyes and corrected herself, “I meant, I can see you’re hurt … I can help you out if you want. I live a couple of floors up.”
He smiled, pulling himself up, “your good Samaritan act will get you into trouble one day.”
She rolled her eyes, “It’s not an act. I’m always this nice.”
He laughed, taking her offer of a shoulder to lean on as he hobbled up the stairs. He didn’t realise he’d hurt himself so badly with his acrobatics up in the lift shaft.
They’d managed to get back to Alyn’s fifth floor, one bedroom apartment without any police in sight. The chase must have put them off.
“So …” Wil started, looking around her apartment. Not exactly a palace, but better than nothing. He was sat on a small, brown, dingy sofa placed against the wall of the tiny lounge. There was an old TV in front of a coffee table, and Wil wondered if it was in technicolour. A pile of magazines and newspapers were on the coffee table, surrounded by round stains from the bottom of mugs, filled a little too far with tea or coffee. Paper was everywhere. Just underneath a pile of notes, Wil could see a silver Apple laptop. The apartment may be crappy, but her taste not.
“How you doing?” Alyn asked, coming from her bathroom directly into the lounge. She had a cloth and disinfectant in her hand.
“I’m good,” He moved and his leg caught, causing him to gasp in pain. “Fucking leg hurts.”
“It looks pretty bad.” She knelt down next to him, pouring the disinfectant on the cloth slowly.
“Thank you for – ahh,” he hissed as the cloth touched his leg. “Shit, it burns.”
“Oh … By the way, this is going to hurt.”
He rolled his eyes, but smiled quickly, “Thanks for doing this …”
“Alyn,” She looked up, her green eyes sparkling. “You?”
“I’m Wil.”
“Wil,” she nodded, as if to reassure herself.
They didn’t talk anymore for a while. She just cleaned up the good three inch cut on his leg, and he sat there, taking in his surroundings, thinking about what to do now he has a big gash in his only pair of jeans. Alyn couldn’t help but notice how run down he was and how weird he smelt. She tried not to judge people before she knew them, which is exactly why she’d let a man running from the police into her home.
“I’m sorry I stink so bad,” he said, slightly embarrassed. He never got embarrassed.
“Hey, that’s okay … do you want to use my shower or something?”
“Damn, you really are a good Samaritan aren’t you?”
“I just like to help.” She shrugged. “And you’re already here, so you might as well.”
“A shower would be great.”
She smiled, “I’ll get you a towel.”
He nodded and leant back in the chair. Fake Van Gogh and funky post-modern paintings hung on the wall. Smart chick, he thought to himself. Must be worth a few cents.
Pretty too, he noted as she came back into the room.
“Here,” she passed him a white fluffy towel. “The shower is just in there, it’s pretty easy to use.”
“Thanks, Alyn,” he smiled before heading into the bathroom.
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Breathless