A man stood in the doorway. He wasn't moving. He wasn't hurting anyone, or doing anything.
Some would call him a saint. If one was to ask about this man, they would hear about his work in many different charities, or how he rebuilt a company after it was left to smolder. They may even hear about how his latest ideas would help impact the rest of the world, specifically when it came to bringing technology to the less fortunate parts of the world.
He wasn't exactly being very saintly at the moment. His arms were crossed, his back was straight, and his eyes were cold as he watched the slowly breathing figure on a ratty couch.
He had come here to see the results of years of working and breaking. He wasn't exactly sure what he had hoped to find. Maybe the man would have taken his own life. Maybe he would smell of booze and live like the barbarian he was. Maybe he would see the man, and react in some way fitting of his status as an insect under his shoe.
He had not, however, expected to see the dark haired twenty six year old in a work uniform, probably from a fast food joint, as he believed they were called. He had not expected to see a calm expression on the sharp, sleeping features.
Honestly, he never expected the man who always seemed to be awake and moving as a child, asleep.
For the briefest moment, he felt a tinge of regret that he had reduced what was once such a brilliant star to shambles and rags.
That was not a difficult feeling to crush down. While a part of him still cared for the, what he still saw as a, boy, regret simply was not possible.
From a glance around the old apartment, it appeared that while everything the man owned was old and falling apart, it was also well taken care of.
It was just like Terrance to clean whenever he had free time, he couldn't help but muse.
He took a few steps deeper into the apartment, and stopped a few paces away from the sleeping man. He twirled a currently unloaded gun around his index finger, and waited for a moment. If the young man woke up, the barrel of the elder's gun would be the last thing he ever saw.
The moment those icy blue eyes opened, their fates would be sealed.
Perhaps that was why the other remained asleep. Perhaps he knew, on some level, that it was safer for him to remain asleep than to try and wake up, only to end up in eternal slumber.
The man crouched next to the sleeping one, and touched his face gently. To his surprise, the boy just turned into the silent sign of affection.
Everything in him knew that Estelle would never bother giving him the affection he had craved as a child. The man had no doubt that she was affectionate with her daughter, but Estelle had never known exactly what emotions were, and how to make someone feel safe around her. This boy, had always soaked up the affection he had given him, like he had every bit of information he had ever been given.
Twenty six, though, while not old, was considered old enough to know better.
The man waited for a few more minutes, easily stroking the mess of the others dark hair, after removing that hideous thing called a hat, before straightening up.
He knew that others would soon be after his boy. He had long since heard rumors that someone matching the sleeping boy's description had somehow managed to get his hands on some very dangerous information.
Or, he thought with a wiry smile, more accurately, he had gotten his foot on it.
If there was anyone who was unfortunate enough too accidently get a price on his head, it was Terrance.
Then again, if there was anyone with enough cunning and resourcefulness to somehow get out of deadly situations, it was his Terry.
He moved back to the doorway, and placed the gun back in its holster. For tonight, he would leave Terrance to his dreams of a world that once was and never would be again.
He knew himself well enough to know that next time he had a chance to kill Terrance, or save him, he would take it.
It would be much kinder to end the young life than to leave him to suffer until he either ended it himself, or someone else did so.
He turned, ready to leave, before his weakness once again stopped him. He rolled his eyes, and strode over to the dark blue couch, before bending and kissing his forehead.
"Beware Pandora's box, and the secrets that it hides, or else, you will die alone, with foolishness and lies. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the only truth lies in our thoughts, thanks to Pandora and her obsession with the box. Goodnight Terry."
And with that the man was gone, knowingly leaving Terrance in a position that would prove to his boy that there were, in fact, worse things than death.
Meanwhile, the young man sleeping on the couch rolled over on his side. His hand moved to scratch his stomach, and his mind was currently occupied by thoughts of hats and boxes. Little did he know he would have a second visitor that night. This one wouldn't just watch him though.
A thin, scraggly man who was losing his hair crept up on the sleeping figure. For but a moment, icy blue eyes darted open, before the needle that had been injected in his arm finally dispensed enough of a sedative to keep the young man asleep throughout the journey.
Even if he didn't know that there was someone watching him, he did try to wake up, but his eyes slowly drifted shut. He didn't know that would be the last time he would fall asleep after working twenty hours straight on the ratchet dark blue couch. He didn't know that he had a visitor before the thin man who drugged him.
If he had known what was in store for him, he might have tried to fight. He might have spent the night under a bridge again instead. Alas, he did not know his fate. Soon enough, he was dreaming again, drifting off to the sound of the waves in his mind.
It couldn't have been true, of course, seeing as he lived completely landlocked. He didn't know that his mind was trying to warn him of a future that would soon become his reality.