Work Text:
At the corner streets of Soho, Edward Nygma sat patiently, waiting. A bouquet of freshly trimmed and soaked crimson red roses, neatly bound and tied with passionate fuchsia pink ribbon. That could’ve been the reason why he was low on spare change of coins to purchase newly greeting cards clearly made for lovers. Cards displaying either glitterful mess of a heart or a cartoonish typical man and woman but never the opposite genders. But all of them were the same, the same cheesy love-filled words printed in those cheaply made cards – the design wasn't preferred but it still held the message. A message for his idol.
It was an honest gloomy weather, if he had to describe it.
The clouds overcasted with misery, rainy day is one of shadows. They aren't obvious since they are all one, but they have come to shield us from the burning bright light of the sun.
Furthermore, little droplets of water come from them. Not too great to see a shadow with water coming down on your face.
It is one where most stay inside, not wishing to let water touch them. But why not? The water is clean. It is natural. It comes from the sky. It helps things grow. It is an astoundingly commonplace phenomenon that no one really truly wants to experience. Not even the writer, who is realising the beauty on rainy days.
Perhaps it is the children that stomp in the puddles in raincoats that truly understand its beauty when the phenomenon is still fresh and new.
Are they for the rainbow at the end? He’d think not. Gloomy, rainy days are a phenomenon all on its own.
It doesn't need a rainbow to justify that. Oh whatever.
His boots step into the bus yet his mind wanders somewhere further, deeper into his head where all of his thoughts are locked up without key – possibly swallowed depths into his body where all his secrets and scars lay open. Scars from his neglected childhood, scars itched in his memories with a boy innocently smiling: A rich one as well.
He fumbled out his wallet, fishing pathetically out his bus card to scan and pay. Hearing an accepting beeping noise, he hurriedly walked into the herds of people; some were laying flatly on their sides out of desperation not to be touched while others didn't mind the innocent leans on another’s shoulder. And obviously, there were vacant seats being occupied with useless items such as school bags or groceries.
“Properties are more important than people?” He mumbled, relentlessly pushing bypass energy-drained faces or annoyed expressions that treated him as if he was an inconvenience- which their eyes clearly say so. It left a weird feeling after feeling being stared down, he got many of those looks to the point he got used to it.
So. Distracting himself to avoid the looks, he stared outside the window spread with dirt and dust; the streets were blurry and misty with silhouettes of scurrying people trying to find warm shelter from the rain. A rainy day after a long day of work is just God mocking working people, doesn’t matter if you’re a high business man or just an average barista teenager trying to make it through the spring.
His boots were drenched in wetness yet still caked greasy mud. There was a sickening smell of warm humanity- it came out from everybody including himself. The sickening smell of sweat and heated breaths made his stomach churn, he tried his best to prevent himself from letting loose from either fainting from the sudden heat after his body was in the cold for at least twenty minute or so. He couldn’t stand being in a crowded place, especially after long hours of: filling up documents for DNA samplings or the near-death boring analysis for handwriting and letters whenever criminals felt bold to be the next dangerous offenders – never worked out for them, however.
Despite the city being mostly infested with people of poverty, they often result in crime. Surprisingly, the city's advanced tracking technology, along with other crime-related tech, were able to track down the anonymous criminals in less than a week. It was ironic how the government was willing to spend money on a device that helped and locate the offenders rather than investing in trying to decrease the overall impoverished population, where the poor were likely to suffer disproportionately. It was corruptency at best, and all of the people on this bus had either experienced it or were going through it. They were truly together as a community despitethes disparities between the humble poor and the filthy rich.
As the bus driver took sudden hitched turns and stops which made most of the people standing having to be pushed by other bodies. Doesn’t matter the size of their body, almost everyone had the same expression: Annoyance, irritation or generally just being tired with no emotive care. Edward held the bouquet close to his chest, trying his utmost best not for it to get squashed like a ham sandwich with too much mayonnaise in a ziplock bag. His leg stumbled from the sudden impact of the bus stopping, releasing the people in the packed bus to their destination.
His bus journey back to his apartment was long and gruelling, it was as if time stopped to spite his tired limping body after sitting hunched back on his swivel chair for more than five hours. Each stop he’s getting closer, each stop there were less people on the bus and more available space for him to sit and have a very much needed rest. All of his resentful thoughts towards the oppression the rich gave to the poor had a complete turn, now he was thinking about his cheap spring bed awaiting him to crash satisfyingly onto its hard mattress. Or: taking a quick hot shower for exactly 5 minutes to save cost from his atrocious bills and eating cheap artificial chicken noodles with his plastic fork he brought from a corner store not far from his small apartment. He wouldn’t say he’s poor, he had a good job after all and it paid well,but he was on budget. He brought the grandest gift for his soulmate.
Seconds turn into minutes, a woman’s voice spoke out to the passengers. “vigouant Lane to Hamsdon.” His stop was near, staring down at the perfectly-kept bouquet, his face curling a small sincere smile.
Soon, he will see him.