A Chilling Reality for the Musician
I have been so motivated lately, and I want to keep going with this! I hope you guys like it as much as the last one!
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CWs: Mentions of parent's illness, poverty, homeless whumpee, mentions of racism (between humans and shifters), cold environmental whump, busking and begging for money
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It’s freezing cold and his bones are aching, his clothes in no way offering enough shelter from the inclement weather. His breath is visible when he exhales, and he’s almost laughing at the chances of today being such a cold day when the weatherman said the night prior to expect sunny weather. The case in his hand isn’t heavy, but his knuckles are bright red and look like they are about to crack. “Aye, I should have put on some moisturizer,” he hums to himself, focusing his eyes on the sidewalk.
Cassiel takes careful steps, never stepping on the cracks in the pavement and playing a game with himself while the sounds of the bustling city around him roars to life. The repetitive sounds of the jackhammers in the industrial sector thumping away, the blaring horns of cars stuck in traffic, the rustling of the rubbish being picked up along with the banging, and the conversations of those around him all coming together to create a muddle of pigments that had no harmony or beauty when put together. They are simply just the colors of life in the city, and all Cas wants to do is create a flurry of melody and multichromatic allure.
In his other hand, he’s holding the breakfast his mum made for him, and it’s still warm despite the howling winds threatening to cool it down. Rather than sitting down somewhere and eating it, he takes a quick turn down an alleyway he uses as a shortcut, when he sees someone, he recognizes. “Shiloh?” He asks, smiling when the huddled form covered in blankets looks up at him.
“Cas, is that you? It’s been a few days since I’ve seen you. How’s your mum doing?” Shiloh questions Cassiel, who is now crouching in front of him, the bag and case set down. “Is she better?”
Cas nods and sighs softly. “Aye, she’s doin’ a wee bit better, but me anxiety is goin’ up. Barely able to keep de apartment, pay de bills, and feed us both.” He clears his throat and picks up the warm paper bag filled with food. “Don’t worry about us, Shiloh. Here, take dis. It’s beans and toast with some eggs. Ye’ll like it. Me Mum made it.”
“Oh, Cas… You know you don’t have to do that for me. Really. I’ll be okay. I can’t take that. I can go out to the park at some point and hunt.” Shiloh tries to pat Cas, but ends up coughing into his elbow.
Immediately patting on Shiloh’s back with the other hand, Cas whispers, “Ye can’t do dat. Ye know dey are after shifters and what not. Take de food. Stuff will get better, I hope. I have to go now… will ye be okay?”
Shiloh looks up at him and nods, shamefully taking the bag and hugging Cassiel hard. “You’re always too kind to a filthy shifter like me, Cas. It's refreshing, but it worries me. You are going to get hurt out here if you keep doing that. People- humans- are getting ready for something big. I just know it…”
“Oi, stop dat. Not all humans are bad; look at me. Don’t down talk yerself like dat either. Ye are a good lad. Life will get better for us, I promise. Me Mum raised me better dan to let ye freeze and starve… How about dis…? Let me give ye me jacket, and I’ll come back for it after me shift by de park.” He didn’t take no for an answer and pulled off his jacket, taking his lucky pick from it before wrapping Shiloh with it.
Shiloh couldn’t keep his eyes dry, and he wipes them away as fast as he can with a frail hand. “Cassiel… you are my guardian angel. You are nothing like the others. Go make some money for you and your mum. I’ll be around.”
Cassiel knows better than to make Shiloh feel worthless by staying, so he gives him one last hug, picks up his guitar case, and keeps making his way through the alley, awaiting the wind chills that will attack him when he steps back onto the pavement of the normal street.
He can’t stop shivering while he sets up his area by the entrance of the city park, keeping mind to the pedestrians that walked around him and looking at him like he’s a mad man. He’s just in a shirt and tattered jeans, but now he’s leaning against the stone column of the entrance gate, strumming away at his guitar to check the sound of it.
Tuning a guitar is so much fun to Cas, because he can use his ability to see colors with sound to find the perfect note. It took him a few years to learn the right technique, but now he can tune in under a minute, picking away at each string until the correct hue shimmers around him. He knows others can’t see what he can, and it saddens him because he feels blessed to see the beautiful shades dance for him.
Once he’s done tuning, he opens his case with his foot and starts to strum away at the guitar, improvising until he can find the right spot to start his show. A few pedestrians stop and look over, but no one stops until the man begins to sing a melodious tune, his voice distracting him from the cold air biting at him. When Cas closes his eyes, he can see the colors so much clearer, but he always prefers to look up at the sky when he sings because it puts him at ease.
He can forget about politics and about all the troubles in his life for those few hours, and during that time, people stop by, drop a few coins or bills, others staying for a few songs before they are whisked away by their own lives. Cas can’t feel his hands or his face by then, but once he’s done, he looks at the earnings for the day, smiling when he realizes he has enough to afford a week’s worth of medicine and some food for his Mum. He shivers a little, putting away his instrument and realizing how late it is. “I should probably check on Shiloh,” he murmurs to himself, picking up his case and quickly heading back to the alleyway.
Turning the corner into the alley, Cas is smiling and about to call out to Shiloh when he instantly stops and drops his guitar case once he realizes what’s going on. “SHILOH!” He shouts, rushing to his friend until hands hold him back and throw him against a wall.
