Chapter Text
One, two, three, four, five…
A girl sat by the side of the road, long waves of undone hair bopping up and down at the beat of a song only she could hear through her headphones. Her feet were naked and bruised, presumably from just walking. She wore a pair of oversized pants that only clung to her thanks to the belt tightening its grip, and an oversized T-shirt that fit her like a dress accompanied by a long sleeve oversized shirt stained just by her sitting down on the Ground’s dirty, polluted floor. It was really stupid to search for clothes in small sizes knowing you'd grow out of them soon. She tapped her feet at the rhythm of the music.
The streets were empty, no one was around to be seen, which could mean many things. But the girl chose to believe it just meant that she could keep on listening to her music without any interruptions.
She reached up to her ears and pressed her headphones closer to herself, muffling the nagging sounds of trash falling down from the sphere not too far away from where she was. I don’t care, I don’t want to know. She thought to herself as she zoomed out staring at the floor at her feet, a cockroach crawled over her feet and went by, but she couldn’t be bothered to care for it.
As long as she had her headphones…As long as she could imagine she was in another better world with them, she didn’t have to care.
She could ignore everything, the pain at the sole of her feet. The screams of kids crying for help as trash fell on them and crushed them. The coughing from the people around her that had gotten sick thanks to the pollution in the air. The trash storm approaching unbelievably closer by the moment.
She could ignore everything that upset her.
…But she couldn't ignore the feeling of being picked up and being forcefully taken away as easily.
The abrupt change from looking down at the floor to being carried over a stranger’s shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes at such a fast pace made her dizzy. She felt like she was going to puke, however puking on an empty stomach didn't seem like a great idea, so instead she opted to try to keep her breathing steady.
The person that was taking her away must have been a little girl no older than she was judging by her height. She was strong, basically carrying her with one arm and barely using the other to support her weight. And even then, she still was fast. Who the hell was this redhead?
But before she could finish wondering about the girl, said girl stopped cold on her tracks and put her down on the floor, the ceiling of an abandoned house now protecting their heads. In this new position, she could finally see the appearance of who had taken her away from her headspace.
…And she looked pitiful.
A young girl, with long, red hair put into two ponytails. One of her eyes was forced shut thanks to a black eye, and the other had a beautiful tone of green in them she had never seen before on a person. As far as the girl’s body showed, she had bruises and scars seemingly everywhere. She wore a tank top matching the colour of her shorts and her shoes.
Her initial anger and confusion turned into pity.
“Hey.” The girl waved her hand in front of Momoa’s face. “Are you concussed?” She reached out her hand and put it on her head, searching for any injuries.
Momoa moved her head away. “I’m fine.” She held on closer to the only thing she had- herself. The redhead sat next to her. The trash storm finally got to where they were and they could hear the way it crashed into and broke anything that came in its way.
“...Why’d you do that?” Momoa broke the silence between them. The redhead’s gaze was fixated on the trash that fell and banged on the window.
“...You looked like you needed help.” The redhead replied.
“...I never asked you to do that.” Momoa looked down at her feet, now touching a dirty, fluffy rug rather than being stabbed by little rocks and pebbles on the ground.
“Would you have rathered to stay out there?”
Momoa stayed silent for a moment. Thinking about her question more than she should have. She didn't want to die. But then why did she stay out there? Why did she ignore all the signs warning her of the dangers of staying…
“...You don’t have to answer.” The redhead retracted her question.
And it was quiet.
As quiet as it could be in a storm like this.
…But for once, a silence without a tune didn't sound awkward to Momoa.
“...Who are you?” She asked the mysterious girl next to her, finally looking back at her. “I’ve never seen you before.” Not like she really belonged here anyway, but saying that would be uncalled for.
The redhead looked at her. “...I’m not from here, so it makes sense you wouldn't.” She avoided eye contact.
“That 's fine.” Momoa answered. “I’m not from here either.”
The redhead looked at her, really looked at her. And then, she giggled. That stern and cold look on her face melted away and the air around them turned warmer. No it didn't, it was still cold. But the rhythm of her laugh, even if cut short, stayed engrained in her ears.
“Well then, I guess I should present myself then.” She smiled at Momoa, crazy how a smile could change an entire person’s appearance. “You can call me Riyo.” Riyo smiled at her. “What about cha?”
“...Momoa.” She answered. “My name is Momoa.”
“That's a cute name!” Riyo responded. “It suits you well.”
Suddenly, Momoa felt her face warm up and she didn't feel as cold. “Thank you…” She looked down. “Riyo fits you, too.” She tried to compliment back.
“You don't have shoes?” Riyo asked, looking at her injured naked feet. Momoa looked back.
“Yeah, but it's fine.” She said, “It's not that bad to walk without them as long as you know where you're going.”
“...You seem like the type to not pay attention to that though.” The redhead responded to her.
“Only at times.” She admitted. “It's really not that bad. It 's fine.” Momoa tried to save some face. “It’s just a little cold.”
“Do you want mine?”
“..What?”
“Do you want me to give you my shoes?” Riyo repeated her question, as if it didn't make her sound insane.
“I’m not going to take your shoes away.” Momoa shook her head. How could she be giving her shoes away like candy? “They’re yours.”
Riyo kept on staring at her with that same look on her face. And then, she sighed and sat back on the wall.
“Then I could just lend ‘em to you.” She offered.
“ ‘Lend it?’ ” Momoa quoted her, Riyo only nodded her head.
“I could lend them to you, and then you can give them back to me next time we meet!” Riyo explained. “Have you never been lent anything?”
No, not really.
“...And how can you be so sure I won't run off with your shoes and keep them?” Momoa couldn't understand her naivety. “You don't know me.”
Riyo stayed silent.
“...I guess you're right.” Riyo replied, learning back and stroking her chin as she seemed to think of something. Did Momoa want to know?
“Well, why don't we trade then!” Riyo snapped her fingers and beamed at her own idea. “I could give you my shoes…and you could give me something of yours!” She pointed at her headphones. “Like these, for example!”
Immediately, Momoa’s hands shot up to her ears and held her headphones close once again as if they were going to be taken away from her. Riyo shifted back. “Or maybe not that!..”
“You wanna trade your shoes for something of mine?” Momoa repeated after her. “...Are you sure about that?”
“Of course!” Riyo assured her. “That way, I know you won't run away with my shoes, and I won't run with whatever you give me either because of my shoes!” She pointed out the pros of trading. “...Of course, only if you want to.”
Once again, a silence spoke between them. Momoa didn't know how, but Riyo made silences good.
“Fine.” She finally gave in. “You can have my shirt, I can see the way you tremble on that…” She pointed at her tank top, barely shielding her from the chill in the house. Now it was Riyo’s turn to turn red.
“It's not that bad!” Riyo pulled on her shirt. “The only issue is that the sleeves aren’t long, that's all!”
Momoa took her T-Shirt off, noticing the loss of some warmth after taking off one layer of her shirts. “Here, put it on.” She handed it to her.
Riyo slowly reached out and grabbed it, her fingers brushing Momoa’s. “...Are you sure about this?” Riyo asked for reassurance, her arms still stretched out with the shirt in her hands for Momoa to grab back if she regretted it.
“About as sure as you are about giving me your shoes.” Momoa pointed at Riyo’s shoes, to which Riyo responded by taking the shirt in, placing it on her lap, and starting to untie her shoes.
Once the knots on her shoes were undone, the redhead ripped off the shoes from her own feet and handed them to the girl with hair that resembled the sea. “ Have at ‘em!”
Momoa reached out and took the shoes from her and held them in her hands. The shoes seemed old and used, but they didn’t look wasted enough to be uncomfortable or unwearable. In other words, going past the dirty stains it had gotten from walking over trash, the shoes seemed to have been really cared for. Momoa looked at the girl sitting next to her who was now putting on her shirt.
“...I still don’t understand why you’d give these to me.” As the words left her lips, Riyo sighed next to her. “Do I really have to say it again? Just take itt!”
“Do you know how hard it is to get a hold on something like this where I’m from?” Momoa asked. “Its not even broken and you’re…giving it away to a stranger, just like that.” She didn’t even want to look at her. It didn’t feel right to say that to someone that was trying to do her a favour, but she needed to know “Why?”
“...Well, that's easy to answer.” The red head shifted closer towards her. “That's because…” She did a pause before she spoke, probably rethinking what she was going to be. Out of nowhere, she leaned her head on Momoa’s shoulder and rested there. “...Because I trust we will meet again.” Momoa froze at the sudden touch. “And when we do…I’ll get to know ya better.”
The freckled girl sat there frozen for a moment. She wasn’t someone that liked being touched without much of a warning, but somehow, this time it wasn’t so bad.
“Then I’ll be looking forward to it.”
After that, the both of them were stuck again in silence. One that didn’t feel overwhelming or empty despite the storm. Time went by, and Momoa couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment the weight on her shoulder felt heavier, or when her eyelids felt too heavy to hold open, but she didn’t fight back against it. For once, she didn’t feel in danger sleeping with a stranger.
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When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she noticed was the lack of weight on her now sore shoulder.
She looked around the room and found no other trace than the shoes of the redhead girl she was promised to meet again now…Well, except for a dead cockroach that seemed to be split in half. She didn't bother to think much on how.
Momoa stood up and looked at the window in front of her, the glass was now cracked, but the trash storm seemed to be long gone now. It was safe to go outside again, as safe as it could be to be on the Ground.
She lowered her gaze down to herself, and instead of being met by the sore sight of her injured and dirty feet, she was grazed by a neat pair of shoes with some neatly tied shoelaces. Riyo must have put them on for her while she was asleep, which she couldn’t be anymore grateful for, she didn’t ever learn how to tie shoelaces. Not like she really used them often either way.
In the empty house, Momoa couldn’t find any more reason to stay. And so, she walked towards the door and pressed a button on her headphones that made them start to play a soft tune. As long as she had her headphones, she would be alright no matter what.
Stepping outside of the abandoned building, for once, her soles didn’t get stabbed by hundreds of tiny pebbles scattered on the ground as she walked. She thought of Riyo again.
“I can’t wait to meet you again one day.”