#leaiisms

@leaiisms

Newt wasn’t proud of it, but a few months after he’d run away he’d had to start stealing. The shelter would provide him with food, but there were other things he needed. Clothes, for one--he was skinnier than ever and needed jeans custom-tailored so they wouldn’t fall down. School supplies, for another--just because he’d run away didn’t mean he was dropping out. And in Indiana it was nigh impossible for a barely-seventeen-year-old gay boy to find a job. So stealing it was. By now he’d identified fences, people to unlock the phones he stole, anyone who would take what he had without question.

This time, it was a rich man’s house. The family was on vacation, and Newt had gotten a job house-sitting when he was fourteen so he knew the alarm code. They hadn’t changed it. Hopefully no one would remember him. He was wearing gloves at any rate, and a hat over his hair.

Among the other more obvious thing he saw, there was a glass bottle with silver designs pressed into it and red and grey smoke swirling within. He didn’t stop to think what it might be, just grabbed it and tucked it in his bag and left, walking quickly but not running outright. Running attracted attention--a lesson he’d learned the hard way.