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Description
The young boy, lying on his bed after a long night of what he referred to as work, looked up as he saw the door open. His nerves calmed as he recognized the familiar, always-sympathetic face of his roommate, smiling at him before wandering over to the vacant bed. Watching him strip out of his work clothes and into daytime clothes, the boy dared to ask a question he had been wondering since he met the young man.

"Where do you keep going during the day?" he asked quietly, startling the young man. He looked around at him.

"I go to college," he said simply, pulling on his shirt. "Just a couple classes a week, so I have time to sleep and do work." He bent down and pulled a small tote bag from beneath his bed and took out a large folder. "Art major."

The boy on the other bed sat up, struggling slightly with exhaustion, and reached out for the folder. The young man smiled sadly at sat down next to him, opening the thing and flipping through the pages of drawings and sketches. He stopped briefly on one to smudge the graphite, glancing over at the boy next to him. At the bottom, scribbled hastily in messy handwriting, was the name "Megs."

"Is that me?" the boy asked, scrunching his face as he stared at the smiling figure on the paper. The young man's face blushed red and he nodded, holding out the picture for Megs to see.

"You're very pretty," he muttered, moving away to pull out more papers from his bag. Megs watched as he pinned up various sketches on the wall, all containing different poses of the small boy, all looking cheerful. "I've never seen you smile, though, so I'm just guessing what it looks like."

Megs touched the paper lightly, tracing his thin fingers down the edge of it. After a moment he handed it back to man and lay back down. "They're nice," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

The man tried to laugh lightly, but it came out more awkward than intended. "I'm using the money I get here to pay for the tuition and student loans." He finished packing away his stuff, leaving the sketched on the wall. "I know it'll never be enough, but it's getting me through for now, so…" He turned to look at the boy, sympathy clouding his face again. "Why are you here?"

Megs pulled himself over to the edge of the bed and threw open the drawer beside him. Packed away untidily were tablets of pills and rows of needles, some used. He looked up at his roommate's face and slowly closed the drawer. "My life." He turned over and curled up under the blankets.

He felt the bed depress behind him, and soon a hand was stroking his pink-tinted blond hair. His roommate looked down at him sadly. "You don't belong here…Someday I'll get you out of here, and you won't need to rely on drugs or money, okay?"

Megs felt his throat tighten and buried his face into the thin pillow. "It's too late for me," he mumbled.

Description
The young boy, lying on his bed after a long night of what he referred to as work, looked up as he saw the door open. His nerves calmed as he recognized the familiar, always-sympathetic face of his roommate, smiling at him before wandering over to the vacant bed. Watching him strip out of his work clothes and into daytime clothes, the boy dared to ask a question he had been wondering since he met the young man.

"Where do you keep going during the day?" he asked quietly, startling the young man. He looked around at him.

"I go to college," he said simply, pulling on his shirt. "Just a couple classes a week, so I have time to sleep and do work." He bent down and pulled a small tote bag from beneath his bed and took out a large folder. "Art major."

The boy on the other bed sat up, struggling slightly with exhaustion, and reached out for the folder. The young man smiled sadly at sat down next to him, opening the thing and flipping through the pages of drawings and sketches. He stopped briefly on one to smudge the graphite, glancing over at the boy next to him. At the bottom, scribbled hastily in messy handwriting, was the name "Megs."

"Is that me?" the boy asked, scrunching his face as he stared at the smiling figure on the paper. The young man's face blushed red and he nodded, holding out the picture for Megs to see.

"You're very pretty," he muttered, moving away to pull out more papers from his bag. Megs watched as he pinned up various sketches on the wall, all containing different poses of the small boy, all looking cheerful. "I've never seen you smile, though, so I'm just guessing what it looks like."

Megs touched the paper lightly, tracing his thin fingers down the edge of it. After a moment he handed it back to man and lay back down. "They're nice," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

The man tried to laugh lightly, but it came out more awkward than intended. "I'm using the money I get here to pay for the tuition and student loans." He finished packing away his stuff, leaving the sketched on the wall. "I know it'll never be enough, but it's getting me through for now, so…" He turned to look at the boy, sympathy clouding his face again. "Why are you here?"

Megs pulled himself over to the edge of the bed and threw open the drawer beside him. Packed away untidily were tablets of pills and rows of needles, some used. He looked up at his roommate's face and slowly closed the drawer. "My life." He turned over and curled up under the blankets.

He felt the bed depress behind him, and soon a hand was stroking his pink-tinted blond hair. His roommate looked down at him sadly. "You don't belong here…Someday I'll get you out of here, and you won't need to rely on drugs or money, okay?"

Megs felt his throat tighten and buried his face into the thin pillow. "It's too late for me," he mumbled.