Chapter Text
Eleven-year-old Eurydice is heading home for the night when she hears a sniffle coming from her alleyway.
(Technically, the alley doesn’t belong to her, but Eurydice doesn’t care. She’s the one who lives in it, so it should be hers.
Eurydice’s very protective of her alleyway, if you couldn’t tell already.)
Her shoulders immediately tensing, Eurydice brandishes her bag like a weapon and slowly moves into the darkness. “Who’s there?” she calls, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. There’s a rustle of movement, and Eurydice bites her lip to avoid crying out.
(She’s lived on the streets for half a year now, but Eurydice’s still scared of the dark sometimes. She can’t help it; who knows what’s lurking in the shadows?)
“Go away,” someone mumbles in response, and Eurydice’s shoulders drop in relief. Judging from the pitch of the voice, Eurydice’s best guess is that the person is her age or younger. Thank God the trespasser’s not a rodent ; Eurydice would’ve screamed, packed everything, and left.
“Well, you’re the one trespassing on my property,” Eurydice retorts, walking closer to the figure and holding up a cardboard sign that reads ‘NO TRESPASSERS’ in bright red marker. “I suggest you leave, intruder, before I kick you out by force.”
“I didn’t see that,” the voice says, and Eurydice laughs dryly.
“Yeah, I got that much,” she says, but she stops in her tracks when she sees the brown-haired boy leaning pitifully against the brick wall of the alleyway. “Uh, are you okay?” Eurydice asks, suddenly feeling slightly uneasy.
She doesn’t get a response; just another sniffle.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Eurydice says awkwardly, crouching down to the boy’s level. She’s never been one for comforting, but she’s trying her best here; cut her some slack. After all, Eurydice had been trying to get this boy out of her private space until what, five seconds ago?
The boy wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can’t stop ,” the boy wails, and Eurydice wants to roll her eyes. Something forbids her from doing so, though; probably her conscience. Steeling herself, Eurydice wraps her arms around the boy’s body.
“Shh,” Eurydice says, patting the boy’s matted mess of hair. It’s weird, offering someone comfort like this, but she just wants to sleep. Eurydice distantly remembers her mama stroking her hair whenever she woke up from a nightmare; this should work.
The boy still doesn’t stop.
“Look,” Eurydice says, and she fishes around her backpack. She triumphantly pulls out a roll of raspberry licorice that she had swiped from the general store the day before and rips off a piece. The boy reaches for it, but Eurydice holds it up in the air.
“I’ll only give this to you if you stop crying, okay?” she says, putting on her no-nonsense voice. The boy hesitates and glances at Eurydice warily, but takes the candy anyway. Eurydice smiles, satisfied.
“Do you have a name?” Eurydice asks, watching the kid gnaw on the licorice. “Orpheus,” the boy replies. Due to the candy in his mouth, it comes out more like “Orpweis,” but it doesn’t matter as Eurydice understands him just fine.
“Nice name,” Eurydice says, a little jealous. “It sounds real pretty.”
“Thanks,” Orpheus says, cramming the last of the licorice into his mouth. “Um, what’s yours?”
“Eurydice,” she mumbles. It sounds almost bad directly juxtaposed to his.
“Your name’s prettier than mine,” Orpheus declares, causing Eurydice to blush slightly. “I guess,” Eurydice says, accepting the compliment.
“How old are you?” Orpheus asks. “I just turned eleven last month,” Eurydice says proudly.
Orpheus’ face falls, to Eurydice’s amusement. “What, are you younger than me?” Eurydice teases, tearing from the roll of licorice with her teeth.
“My birthday is in July,” Orpheus sulks, making a huffy noise that sounds like the whistle of a train. “I’m turning eleven then.”
It’s only May. Eurydice laughs for the first time in a week, nearly choking on her candy. “I’m three months older,” she flaunts happily, smugly grinning in Orpheus’ direction.
Orpheus scowls, scuffing his shoes against the ground.
“Don’t do that if you wanna keep those for longer,” Eurydice says automatically. “You’ll wear out the soles like that.”
“How do you know that?” Orpheus says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
“I’ve been livin’ alone for a while now,” Eurydice shrugs nonchalantly, absentmindedly scraping out the dirt from underneath her fingernails. “My mama wasn’t rich, either. You just know these things.”
Orpheus nods, all hints of skepticism gone. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says quietly, resorting to fidgeting with his fingers. “You know a lot, Eurydice. You’re smart.”
“It’s late, Orpheus,” Eurydice says, trying to pull away from the subject of intelligence; how’s she going to tell him that she can’t do basic addition properly? “I’m gonna go to sleep, alright?”
She stands up from the ground and starts looking for the bedroll that she had hidden in a loose spot in the wall that morning.
Orpheus pouts, watching Eurydice’s movements. “Can I stay with you?” he asks, playing with the hem of his shirt. “It’s scary out there, an’ I don’t got no one. You’re the only person who’s been nice to me today.”
“Well…” Eurydice starts, pulling the bedroll out of the wall.
(Eurydice wants to explain to Orpheus that she’s a lone wolf and that she moves without the assistance of anyone else. Part of Eurydice also knows that Orpheus isn’t going to last a day out there on his own; the boy’s too much of a crybaby for his own good.)
“Okay,” Eurydice sighs, spreading out the roll on the ground. “You can stay with me.”
(Eurydice bites her tongue hard to keep from saying “for now.”)
“Thank you!” Orpheus crows, pulling Eurydice into a hug with his noodle-like arms. “I promise that I’ll help out where I can.”
“You better,” Eurydice jokes. “C’mon, doofus, go to sleep.”
“I’m not a doofus,” Orpheus protests, but Eurydice silences him with a pinch to the arm. Orpheus yelps in pain, shoots Eurydice a dirty look, and lies down on the bedroll. “G’night, Eurydice,” he says, curling up into a ball.
“Shuffle,” Eurydice orders, nudging Orpheus’ body with her foot. The boy reluctantly does so. Eurydice flops down next to her newfound companion; she’s going to need to get another bedroll, somehow. If Orpheus is sticking with her in the long-term, this cramped arrangement isn’t going to work.
Orpheus snuggles up to Eurydice. The girl wants to push him away, but it does feel nice to have another warm body next to her. “Sleep tight,” she says, closing her eyes.
Eurydice doesn’t know how long this arrangement will work out, but she’ll enjoy it while it lasts.