Drink up baby, look at the stars, I'll kiss you again, between the bars.

A little boy stood in a dark room, assumed to be a supply closet given the tall shelves that he could barely reach. The only light that came from it were the occasional blinks of status lights inside the room and the bright flashes from bolts of lightning that descended from the clouds outside. A window ran from floor-to-ceiling but did not encompass the length of the outside wall. With each flash of lightning, the boy flinched, willing it to go away. It was useless, though. He couldn't control it but it was the bliss of being a child--wishing things would be better.

They weren't, though. Not all the time.

He was dressed in his light blue fatigues, his hands clasped together. The place wasn't known to all, just him and a friend of his. Well, and the others who used the supply closet. They had met previously but usually didn't spend much time in fear they would get caught. But now he waited, hoping that tonight his friend would come back. Boba was the name of his friend. But he didn't have one of his own. Oh-One-Slash-One-Three-Eight was his official title but that wasn't a name for a child. He simply went by "Friend" as was deemed proper by Boba. 

Thoughts of wanting his own name came and went often. It was best not to dwell on things that wouldn't come true. But tonight, he hoped that his wish of meeting his friend again would.