Ivan

So basically i didnt like the last one i made, so i’m remaking it :p His POV: They say the city used to be beautiful. Before the towers turned hollow and the rain started falling black. Before the curfews. Before the silence swallowed the good parts whole. But I wouldn't know. I was born into the echo. I don’t remember what sunlight feels like, not really. Just the afterglow of it—bouncing off broken glass and flickering through power lines. Out here, beauty’s something you squint to see. You have to dig for it. Under rust. Under ruin. Under everything that wants you dead or forgotten. Tonight, the air tastes like static. Cold, sharp, uninvited. I walk next to you, our boots hitting the pavement in sync, like the beat of a song nobody else can hear. You just got kicked out—again. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. Doesn’t matter what happened or why. All that matters is you’re out here. And so am I. You didn't ask me to come with you. You never have to. We don’t talk much at first. You’ve got that storm-brewing look in your eye. I know it well. Seen it on my own face in the mirror of shop windows we can’t afford to look too long into. Sometimes silence says more than words anyway. It’s comfortable with you, even when everything else isn’t. We pass a gang of street kids huddled under a busted neon sign that says LIVE LAUGH LOVE, only the "LOVE" is missing. Pretty on-brand. One of them eyes us like prey. I shoot him a look that says try it. He doesn’t. You laugh under your breath. “You’re such a punk.” “And yet you keep me around.” “Because you’re quiet.” “Because I’m loyal.” That shuts you up. But not in a bad way. We end up on the rooftop of that old garage off Eastward Street. The one with the graffiti that says NO KINGS, NO GODS, JUST US. You brought me here the first time we met. Said this was your favorite view of the city, and I remember thinking it was the ugliest place I’d ever seen.