Chapter Text
New York City is very wet.
Rain pounds heavily on the metal roof of the cab, muffled. The radio plays a synth-y pop song, crackling here and there from age. Benny sits with his head against the window, the cold seeping into his face.
The traffic is smooth today- something borderline impossible in a city like this- making the trip to the housing district a quick one. The driver pulls over, nearly kissing the curb, and pops the trunk.
With a half-hearted smile, Benny pays and gets out.
dragging his suitcase behind him, he fumbles for his keys with rain-slick fingers and walks in. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he gives a quick wave to the receptionist and hurries upstairs.
803, 804, 805, 806..
Benny lets out he didn't realize he was holding at the door marked 810.
The apartment is stuffy, but he's happy for it's warmth; It's the middle of October.
He closes the door behind him, listens to the lock slide into place, and sighs.
New York is a big change from Echo. Where Echo had rotting houses spaced out among the sandy landscape, New York City is metal and glass giants squished so tightly he’s surprised anyone can breathe here.
Shaking his head, he decides to explore the place. The apartment is a large square, bathroom shoved in like an afterthought. To his left is a small kitchen, open and bare. It smells a but like cleaner. In the left and farthest corner are steps that dip down into a lower section of the floor. It's a little odd, but it has some charm. Lastly, a door leads to the balcony and the fire escape. He keeps it closed, not bothering to check it out.
He'd rather not have had gone through the trouble of moving just to slip and crack his skull open, thanks.
Unpacking takes all of five minutes, maybe six if you include getting distracted by his clothes as unpacking. But he only just got around to it, after sitting on the floor near the front door and zoning out for a good few hours.
The sun has finally managed to break through the clouds, but only just before sunset. Orange bathes the rooms, bright and warm.
He has to make two trips that afternoon: get a bed, sleeping bag or blow up is fine, and some food.
While selling intel scraped from perv's laptops and scamming pharmaceutical companies was a good way to some money in Echo, he had to pay off old debts and have enough for first month's rent and have enough to get here. Plus his bed was heavy as shit, so paying someone to move it was out of the question.
He gets lost for a few blocks before finding a pizza store and ends up back at his apartment, breathes around too-hot cheese and watches a helicopter creep across the sky, sleeping bag and the cheapest pillow he could find at his side.
If the city was alive before, it's bursting to the brim with life now, like a superorganism.
Benny groans, pushing his face so hard into his pillow that his nose starts to hurt. Shrill music pounds against his skull, pouring from one of the other apartments. He'd knock on the asshole's door if he knew where it was coming from; It feels as though it's coming from everywhere.
Thankfully, a door slams open and someone pounds against hardwood. Yelling follows, then a rush of footfalls, then sweet sweet silence.
But as nice as it is, his head still aches, throbbing pain having him groan when he sits up, and he didn't think to get any pain killers.
He sighs and glares daggers at the front door.
The tips of skyscrapers make up for the lack of stars, yellow office lights shining way up high and stark against the black horizon.
People move in waves around him, swaying and weaving through and around each other. They are like a hivemind almost, used to the city life and busy streets.
Benny lands on his face once and almost trips crossing the street. He is not used to this life.
The pharmacy hums softly, tinny from the ceiling lights. It grates on his aching head, so he squeezes his eyes shut and steps into the store completely. Walking from aisle to aisle, he finds himself in no luck, until he reaches the last one. Only one other person is in the aisle, a man in a suit, holding a bottle of what looks to be cough syrup.
Benny keeps to himself. His eyes flick over a few times, soaking in more information with each gaze.
The man looks about to be in his late thirties, and appears to be over six foot five. His suit is a deep black that makes his head spin a little if he looks at it for too long. It looks dry-cleaned, and high end. He's clean-shaven, and his hair is combed back. It's almost as dark as his suit.
"Do you want something?" Benny nearly jumps at the voice, then realizes it's coming from the man. He flushes in embarrassment; He hadn't realized he was staring.
the taller of the two quirks an eyebrow.
"Sorry." He cringes at rough his voice sounds from disuse. He was never much of a talker, which only lead to bullying in his youth and later in life. But when he would talk, it'd only led to more jeers, so he took his chances with selective mutism. But right now he just sounds like a snow shovel on gravel.
The man snorts and pushes the cough syrup into his hands.
"God, you sounds like you need this more than me." He chuckles.
What an ass, He thinks, shoulders hiked up to his ears as he walks to the register, only to turn around. Pain killers. If he doesn't get those tonight, he can't imagine how he'll feel in the morning.
Grumbling past the taller man, who has the gall to stare at him, he grabs a bottle of ibuprofen and pays.
The wind has picked up outside, cold and biting. Benny swears under his breath, regretting not wearing a coat. It's past one am and long past when he left the apartment. He's begun to realize that the city is bigger than he thought. Maybe he is in over his head.
Maybe he made a mistake leaving Echo.
He whips around at a revving and his lips pull back as he seethes at a black car. At the steering wheel is the man from the store, which only has his lips pulling back into a snarl.
He flips him off and starts walking. The tires crunch a few rocks as it crawls beside him.
"FUCK YOU!" He takes off down the street, skidding around a corner and yelling at the screech of tires.
Left, right, straight, left, right, right-
A shout catches in his throat, feet leaving the ground and the sky sliding away. He throws a hook and misses, pushed against the seat.
The man stares down with dark eyes and an intense stare that has him freezing. He begins to shake; It's not from the cold this time.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice cracking on the last word.
The man makes a face that makes benny feel dumb, like he should already know the answer. The large hands pinning his wrists to his chest lets go. One of those strong hands runs through his hair, smoothing it over from the scuffle.
"You're homeless, right?"
OH, THIS FUCKER-
"You.. Okay, that complicates things, that's fine." He still hovers over Benny, boxing him in with his broad shoulders and arms. "I was going to drive you to a shelter, but I guess I'm driving you home."
Benny blinks, then shifts, uncomfortable. "Right. Like I'm giving my address to a stranger."
The larger of them leans closer. "Would you rather me throw you out here? It looked like you were lost when I found you, but if you'd rather be kidnapped or stabbed, be my guest."
Does he really want to go out there? The man, albeit a potential kidnapper, is right. He's new and that makes him a target. When he moved here, he knew the risks.
He shakes his head.
The man smiles, a quick tug at the corners of his mouth that falls off just as fast as it appeared, and leans back into the driver's seat.
The ride is silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the sounds of the city.
Benny leans his head against the window, his eyelids drooping every so often. He was tired before, but now he's exhausted. His head aches and he wants to go home.
But he can't do that if he can't keep himself awake.
He jerks his head again, bonking it on the window on accident which gets him a glare. He curls into the door as much as he can without lifting his feet up.
"I'm Adam."
Benny looks at him from the corner of his eye. He tries, "I'm Benny. It's short for Benjamin. Benjamin-"
What is he doing, almost giving out his full name? He mentally slaps himself and goes back to staring through the window.
Skyscrapers surround them. There wasn't that many around his place. Huh. Weird. Maybe he's more exhausted than he thought, because he's got to be seeing things. He gave Adam his address, and if Adam was going to kidnap him, why would he need his address?
A yawn breaks through his thought, his jaw popping disgustingly. The car's interior blurs, eyes welling up and spilling over. He feels heavy, lead filling his limbs.
Just when his eyes slip shut, the car stops and shuts off.
"Okay, get out." Adam waves his hand toward the door.
A beat.
"Bitch."
Benny cackles as he rushes out and narrowly misses Adam's hand aiming for his face. The car peels onto road.
The younger flips off the car and heads inside.
Benny meets his neighbor when getting his mail.
His name is Clint. He's a skinny thing, pale and veins visible more than is considered normal in his hands. His hair is short and scruffy, blond locks so light they're almost white.
Benny learns that he is very sweet and not the most social when he comes up to him, mail in one hand and the other twisting in his hair, muttering apologies for yelling the other night.
"It's cool, man." Benny soothes. "I was gonna do the same thing. if I knew where that was coming from." He trails off into a exhale. The man looks relieved, too relieved for something this small.
"You okay?"
Clint frowns, confused. "I- Yeah?"
"Are you asking or telling me?"
Clint sighs heavily, then stares, tired. "Haven't been sleeping."
The younger thinks, considering, before gently tugging Clint up to their shared hall and handing him chamomile tea and a bag of pills. Clint's brows shoot up.
"Melatonin. I'm not a drug dealer." He smiles at his neighbor, watching the man struggle for words before placing a hand on his shoulder.
Benny pats it once, twice.
Clint smiles.