Fantasy The Story of a Gremlin and a Leafy Green

[smolfluffball]

Could this day get any better? He didn’t think so.

He had nicked a wallet off of someone. It wasn’t a really terrible crime, he thought, and all he did was take a couple of tens out of the wallet to get himself something to eat later that night. He did this quite often - stealing from people, pickpocketing from schmucks who had too much money on them. He’d had to learn how to, because of his personal situation. His legal guardian, his uncle, was hardly ever home to provide food for him, so he needed to buy something to eat whenever he wasn’t home. It was a pretty normal occurrence in his life, him having to buy food from restaurants with the money he stole.

His uncle was usually away for extended periods of time because of his job. That was nothing new. It just kind of sucked for the young teenager. Actually, he thought it was a pretty crappy routine. He didn’t want to admit that, though. He was a tough kid, and he didn’t really mind having to steal money from hardworking adults to provide food for his sorry ass. It was alright, because he was used to it.

He, also, was aware that he didn’t have many other options. After he’d almost burned down the house once (that had been an exaggeration - he had just caught a potholder on fire), his uncle was wary to let him try cooking again and only allowed him to cook when he could be supervised. The teen thought that was a fair compromise, because he didn’t really want the house to burn down, but it just sucked on nights when he was really hungry and his uncle wasn’t home. No uncle, no cooking, no food. He usually ate his meals from restaurants or fast food places, alone, with his dog, at his big and empty house. In his room, because it was smaller and he didn’t have to think that he was truly all alone in his uncle’s house. But it was fine. He was used to it. He had his dog.

Of course, his uncle did provide for him. Mostly. He was home occasionally during the month and they ate together, and whenever he left for work he left behind money for the teenager he’d been asked to look after. It was great, in a not so great kind of way. On one hand, the kid was able to do pretty much whatever he wanted at home without fear of his uncle getting mad at him. On the other hand, it was achingly lonely. He never really did anything terrible at his house, because he wasn’t that terrible a person. He was home alone frequently, but he just listened to his music loudly and chased around his dog in his favorite blanket. He was fourteen. What was he going to do? Drugs? Alcohol? He didn’t even know where he’d get a fake ID to get that kind of stuff. He looked too young to even fake being eighteen. He was short and thin, and he had wide eyes and Sharpie drawings all over his arms. And, honestly, he’d been caught by the cops before and hated how handcuffs felt around his wrists. He didn’t understand how someone could be turned on by being cuffed, because it really fucking hurt him. Maybe it was because the cops that arrested him hated him or something and made them pinch his skin. He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. He just hoped he wouldn’t get found out this time.

He pushed that thought out of his head quickly. He needed the money more than they did. At least for tonight, and for the next night, and probably the night after that. He sighed but stashed his newfound money away in his shoe, which was where he kept all of his money, so he didn’t lose it. He then decided to go to the police station and give the wallet to the cops. He was a fourteen year old kid, an innocent looking, short teenager with half blond, half brown hair, so surely they wouldn’t suspect him.

When he came into the station the cop at the front desk recognized him, from the time she had arrested him for drawing a dick on a brick wall, but he simply said that he’d found the wallet on the side of the road and felt bad that the man had lost it. The she-cop didn’t entirely believe him, but he could be pretty convincing and charming when he needed to be, and she eventually took it from him. Of course she did. He was just an unassuming kid, with a few too many piercings in his left ear and a totally fashionable outfit. His Sharpie covered arms and black and white checkered pants and dark blue fuzzy sweater absolutely screamed just how well he could style himself. The police officer took the wallet from him and thanked him for bringing it to the station, and he had pulled up his sugary sweet smile and thanked her for her service to the town. She rolled her eyes, but he had turned on his heels and left before she could say anything else. He didn’t want to risk being caught, because he knew that he shouldn’t hang around the station for very long. Especially because he was walking around with stolen money in his shoe.

After he’d left the station, he wandered the streets for a few hours, terrorizing some pigeons and trying to pick up a stray cat, but the sun had set and he now found himself in a small convenience store. There were some other students, older teenagers, in the store with him, but the employee behind the counter had given them all the stink eye. He found that offensive and rude, and he thought that was bad customer service. What had he done to deserve that? He literally had just come into the store. It wasn’t like he was going to steal anything, or whatever. There wasn't anything he'd even want to steal in the store. He had money, too, so he could buy something if he really wanted to. He frowned at her, but then turned away from the employee and went towards the candy bars.

He heard the other teenagers whispering about something, stealing some chips and running off, but he didn’t pay attention to them and simply picked up one of his favorite chocolate bars. The teenagers gasped away from him, but then laughed and grabbed what they said they would and ran out the door. The bell jangled after them and the employee shouted for them, and the young teenager decided to copy them. He stuffed the chocolate into his pocket, then tried to sneak out of the store, but the employee threw a half-empty water bottle at him and said she was calling the cops and that he best not run. He stared at her, wide-eyed and trying to look innocent, and as soon as she reached for the phone, he bolted. He couldn’t stay there and have the cops arrive, because he’d get arrested again. He didn’t want to get caught by them, because he had stolen a wallet earlier and really didn’t want to leave his dog alone tonight.

He ran away from the shop, but he soon heard sirens behind him and stopped running. He knew the drill, but he still couldn’t help but look around for a way out. He heard some laughing in the distance and squinted, then he realized it was the teenagers who just ran away. God, they were assholes. He took a step towards their laughter, but then froze. No, he knew better than that. He’d be caught by the cops and blamed for the teenagers if he went towards them, right? Because he was there with them when they ran away, and he had a bad reputation among the police. He ran his hands through his hair, but then took the chocolate bar out of his pocket and broke a piece of it off. If he ate all his chocolate, he could try to worm his way out of the entire incident. He probably wouldn’t be able to, but it was worth a shot. He chewed the piece in his mouth, then swallowed when the cops pulled up behind him. They got out and greeted him with his full fake name, East West Bell, and he smiled and said that he actually hadn’t done anything this time. They didn’t believe him, and the store employee came out and told them that he’d been involved. The chocolate bar in his hands was proof.

He was cuffed and put in the back of the patrol car, and his chocolate bar had been taken away from him. He simply sighed. At least they didn’t know he’d stolen the wallet earlier too.

Except they did know that, because of course they did.

When he had been taken into the station for questioning, the cop who arrested him had asked him if a specific leather wallet looked familiar. He recognized it instantly, but had lied and said no. Of course it didn’t look familiar. Was it his? The cop sighed and asked West not to lie, and the teenager scoffed and said he wasn’t lying. That’s when the cop pulled the annoying cop card - he knew that West had turned it in earlier, because he’d seen him do so. The half and half teenager frowned, but then asked why the cop wanted to know if he’d seen the wallet if he already knew the truth. The cop told him it had been a test, and he had failed, and after a few more arguments and questions, West was sent to the holding cell to wait until the morning. They hoped he would be more “co-operative” and “honest” if he got to sleep in the cell. But, the joke was on them, because he knew the metal bars well.

He sighed and went to sit on the bench against the wall. At least he’d taken his dog out one last time before he got arrested. The cops had given him back his chocolate bar, too, because he had opened it and eaten part of it, and it couldn’t be sold anymore. He broke off another piece of his chocolate, popping it into his mouth and letting it melt on his tongue. At least the cops hadn’t found the money in his shoe. He leaned against the wall, pressing the chocolate to the roof of his mouth and closing his eyes.

Tomorrow he’d be released from the holding cell, because he was still a minor and the cops could never get in touch with his uncle, and some of them even felt bad for him. He just had to stay the night in the police station, which was cold and dark and ratty, but it was better than being stuck at his house all by himself for another night. The only thing he really missed whenever he did have to stay the night at the police station was his dog, but his dog would be fine for the night. She was probably sleeping in his bed right about now.

He opened his eyes when he heard the door to the holding cells open, and one of the teenagers from the shop was escorted in and shown into the cell next to his. The teenager sneered at him and he stuck his tongue out at her, but when she flicked him off he just rolled his eyes and looked away. This really was a great way to end his day. Maybe he'd see the police chiefs son later, if he was lucky. That was something to look forward to, at least, possibly. He didn't think the police chiefs son even knew he existed, but even just seeing the other teenager was enough to brighten his mood. He hoped he'd see him tomorrow, or tonight, or sometime soon. They needed to chat more.

elytra ((I hope you enjoy my misleading as hell title uwu))

 

[elytra]

"I'm not going to be home for dinner tonight."

The statement wasn't in any way surprising to one Kaleb Weer, who had gotten used to hearing it over the past few years. Ever since moving back to Providence, there was at least 2 days a week where his dad wouldn't be able to be home for dinner. Kaleb understood why; he was the police chief of the town, and with everything that had been happening- between the Jamesons and the just general weird shit -he sometimes needed to stay late. It was fine. Kaleb got it, he knew they were a single income household, and he knew that when stuff happened, his dad couldn't just take off to have dinner. Sure, maybe it'd been a little hurtful when it first started happening, when he was 10, but it'd been 4 years so that feeling had faded.

It helped that he was actually able to walk down to the station now, too. When he was younger, he couldn't just leave the house and go to bring his dad dinner, even though he knew his dad probably wasn't going to eat if it wasn't with him. When he turned 13, though, he got permission to stop by, by both his dad and the others at the station. He was pretty sure they were all in favor because he also brought them coffee, but whatever. So long as they continued to convince his father that he was old enough to wander town and bring over some food, it was fine.

Kaleb flicked another paper triangle from where he sat at the kitchen table, watching as it landed squarely within the waste bin at the other side of the room. Score. "Big case?" He asked, even though he knew the answer already. He'd listened in to the phone call; something about teens robbing a store. It wasn't big, but for a small town, it was enough to bring the chief in.

He only glanced up to swat away his dad's hand when he went to ruffle Kaleb's hair, which was only currently long enough for a short ponytail. "Something like that." He agreed, though he probably already knew that his son had an idea of what was going on "You know the rules. No boys, no parties, no setting anything on fire. And if the Quills come over--"

"I know, I know, make them some food. Go to work already! Jesus christ!"

He could hear his dad laughing as he went towards the front room, and then left, leaving Kaleb alone in the house. If it were anyone else, this wouldn't be a problem. Teens were supposed to be rowdy and do things they weren't supposed to, especially if their parents had jobs as some sort of authority. Unfortunately, Kaleb had no such desire, past absentmindedly committing theft; he never really did it on purpose, and it wasn't to spite his dad in any way, so he was pretty sure it didn't count.

The first hour he spent reading. The second, he did some cleaning, and laid down on the floor to stare at the ceiling on a whim. By the third, he was bored out of his mind, rearranging the decorative tea pots they had on a shelf, hoping that one of the Quills, or maybe Jessica, would knock and save him from what had become something akin to limbo. When hour 4 came around, he was relieved, because that meant he could actually start on the food to bring down to the office.

First: Tea. His dad didn't do well with caffeine, and Kaleb had banned him from coffee, so decaffeinated tea was what he usually brought as a drink. He grabbed a thermos, setting it on the counter, before getting the kettle and filling it with water. Once he filled it, he set it on the stove. Rather than turn anything on, he put his hands on the sides of the metal container, concentrated, and heated it up himself.

Nothing lit on fire. He didn't light on fire. That was progress.

Once the tea was done, he got together two dinners, which were just left overs from previous nights, one container for himself and the other for his dad. Like the tea, he heated them up himself as a way to practice his magic. Unlike the tea, when he got around to heating up the second dish, a lightbulb imploded nearby. The next 15 minutes were spent frantically cleaning up and making sure that any evidence of this happening was gone. After his mistakes were properly hidden and the bulb replaced, he set off to the office, picking up coffees on the way.

The first person to greet him was Gabby. She was possibly his favorite of the people who worked there, other than his dad, because she was willing to tell him all the things that were happening that day. Once he'd gone through the doors, she was there, plucking her coffee from the container and leaning on the counter, lazily grinning. "Hey, kiddo. Your dad's in the back, past the over-night holding cells." She said, nodding her head towards the area she'd mentioned.

"Yea, yea. Okay. What's going on?"

"Just a few teens that stole stuff from a store. Fuckin' idiots, if you ask me." Another thing about Gabby: she had no qualms about cursing directly in front him, though his dad had told her not to on numerous occasions "One of them's that kid that we keep catching, actually. You know, the one that's your age?"

Oh, Kaleb knew him. Well, okay, he didn't know him, but he knew of him. There'd been multiple occasions he'd seen him around the station, usually on the wrong side of the bars, but he'd never spoken with him. Kaleb just didn't speak with many people, even if they were his age. It was hard to get involved with people who knew you were the chief's kid.

He sighed, shifting the boxes in his arms "Yea, I'm aware of him. I'll head back. Enjoy the coffee." He said, before making his way to where most of the officers were. He handed out the coffees, got a few thank-yous here and there, before going to the holding cells. Originally, he was just going to walk by, go to his dads office and be done with it. Instead, he found himself stopping in front of the cell that had the teen his age in it.

"At this rate, they're gonna dedicate the fucking cell to you." Ah, yea, of course that's what he says. His first words to this guy and its that. Whatever, too late to take it back now.

 

[smolfluffball]

The teen in the cell next to him was incredibly pissed off. West could feel it. She was practically radiating anger and hate, and when the younger teenager had glanced at her again, she told him to fuck off. He said he couldn't, clearly, and she snorted. That surprised him, because that hadn't even been a joke. He couldn't fuck off or leave, and he just meant to point that out to the girl, to remind her that they were in the same situation. Maybe the girl was stressed and had snorted at him because this was her first time in a holding cell. Hm. That would explain why she looked so angry and was so hostile towards him. He kept an eye on the girl as he snapped off a piece of his chocolate, then stood from the bench and went towards the bars dividing the cells.

He popped the chocolate into his mouth and waved the chocolate bar in his hand, smiling when the girls eyes landed on it. He moved the chocolate in his mouth off to the side, so he could speak. "Want some chocolate?" he asked, breaking off another piece. He held it in his palm, trying to entice the other teenager over to him. "It's pretty sweet, which is perfect for a sweetheart just like you."

The girl scoffed and looked West over, then stood and came towards the bars. His plan worked brilliantly. No one could refuse chocolate. Her arms were crossed, and, although West knew it was probably some form of an intimidation tactic, he just chewed the chocolate in his mouth. She wasn't that tall, and she had soft features and curly hair. He knew she wouldn't do anything, even if she was pissed off at everything. It wasn't like it was his fault she had been arrested. "How old are you, kid?" she asked.

"Fourteen," West said, breaking off a bigger chunk of the chocolate bar and offering it to the girl. She took it but didn't thank him. He didn't mind. He understood why. West had been like her when he was first arrested - he fought against the police officers and complained insistently about being let out, because it was inhumane and he needed to do his homework. Man, he had been a brat.

"What's a fourteen year old doing in a cell on a school night?" The girl asked, cocking an eyebrow. She nibbled carefully on the chocolate, but then broke it into smaller pieces and actually began to eat it. "I bet your parents are worried."

"Nah." West shrugged. "What did you take from the convenience store?"

"A bag of chips. It doesn't matter. My parents are going to come get me soon."

"Oh, lucky you." He received an eye roll in response and the girl turned away from him, going back to her spot on the floor. "You're welcome for the chocolate," West said lightly, offering an innocent smile when the girl sighed.

Well, that was rude. He had assumed she wouldn't be very polite, but this was just too much. He offered her chocolate out of the goodness of his heart and she didn't even bother to thank him. He hoped he wouldn't grow up to be like her. He watched the girl for a few moments longer, then turned and went back to the bench. She was no longer very interesting. He had thought she'd stolen something more important, like medicine or something, but no. Just some stupid chips. He didn't really have much room to talk, because he was also in the cell because he stole a measly chocolate bar, but he didn't think about that.

Instead, he continued to eat his chocolate. He didn't have much to do, after all, and he was hungry. He regretted not having eaten anything before he was arrested, but he hadn't known the evening would play out this way. He leaned back against the wall and sighed, but then the door opened and in walked a familiar boy carrying some leftovers. West immediately smiled and quickly deserted his seat, going towards the bars. He was going to say something to him. He had chocolate. The boy had some extra food. It was perfect. They could trade. He couldn't think of anything better to offer to the black haired boy, mostly because he didn't have anything better too offer. The chief's son looked like someone who liked chocolate, and West wanted to talk and get to know him. They were the same age and went to the same school and had classes together, and West had exactly one friend that had four paws and was covered in fur. He smiled when the boy looked at him, but before he could even say hey, the boy said something instead. West stared at him momentarily, but then laughed.

"Oh, no, they aren't going to dedicate it to me. It's already mine," he said, feeling bold. This was great! The other boy said something first, which meant that he wanted to be friends too, probably. "That bench knows me better than my bed, and I've memorized every detail on these bars. Like, that one," he gestured to one three bars to the left, "has dents really close to each other, like someone grabbed the bar and squeezed it really hard." He looked at the chocolate in his hand and broke off a piece, popping it into his mouth. "But, you know, I wouldn't mind having my name engraved onto a metal plate and hung up on the bars. That'd be amazing. Think you could talk to your dad about that for me? And, also, if I gave you my chocolate, would you mind getting me something to eat? I didn't get to eat anything before I was thrown in here and I am starving. From one freshman to another. Please."

 

[elytra]

Oh, god, he talked a lot, didn't he? Kaleb wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly hadn't been this. He was lost for a moment, the words going in one ear and out the other, but he caught on that apparently the boy was interested in laying claim to the cell, and...also wanted the food that Kaleb was carrying, in exchange for chocolate. Chocolate that he had no doubt stolen, which wasn't even a whole bar, and even worse, had probably touched, and there was no way that was sanitary, right? There was absolutely no way that it wasn't covered in germs and maybe a life-threatening pathogen.

Not that it mattered, he didn't like chocolate anyway. He'd never liked the taste of it, except for if it was in cookies, and even then that was pushing it. It was okay, he'd eat it if someone offered and he couldn't say no without being impolite, but he didn't go out of his way for it, especially if it would probably kill him like this bar would.

It wasn't a fair trade anyway, and he wasn't supposed to be feeding people being held in the overnight cells. There was also the fact that he didn't know this kid, even though they were the same age. He owed him absolutely nothing. He needed to give his dad food, and he needed to eat, and there just wasn't enough to do that and also feed some random dude. He just couldn't do that. It didn't add up.

But he felt bad.

See, if it was an adult, he wouldn't. Adults were more in control of their own lives. Or, well, most adults were. He really wasn't sure, but his dad had told him that when it came to things like this, he should be more forgiving towards people his own age just because they could have 'something else going on'. There had been no explanation as to what could be going on, but Kaleb wasn't stupid. He could put two and two together. And besides, he doubted the guy was lying about not having eaten anything before getting thrown in a cell.

He stood there a moment, mentally debating himself, before sighing in a frustrated way. He could just make himself more food at home, he guessed. It wouldn't be that hard, and if he didn't give the other something, he'd feel guilty about it later. Carefully, he put down the box of food he'd been planning to eat and carefully nudged it under the cell door, not wanting to touch the floor with his hands.

"Yea, fine." He said, exasperated "But I don't want your chocolate, it's probably disgusting. Just don't tell anyone I gave you that." They'd probably be able to guess, but they could easily pretend to overlook it. They probably would, knowing Gabby; she usually was fine with covering for him when he asked. So, so long as no one mentioned it, he wouldn't get in trouble.