The Drummer on the Second Floor

I’ve never felt more weak or low in my life. I woke up this morning, on my usual bench and started crying. I’ve been living on the streets now for five days. Today’s the fifth. I woke up with bird crap on me, people rushing to work and I heard people talking about me, “the young, dirty boy on the bench.” I can go home but I won’t allow myself. Feeling the way my parents made me feel is worse than this. I just wanted to be treated like a son.
I never did see the drummer guy after that one time. I’ve heard him though. He’s became my personal music box. I love falling asleep to the drumming, it’s the only thing I look forward too. What hurts that little bit more is that none of my friends have came to see me. I mean, how can they call themselves friends and not visit me at a time like this? I’m getting an awful sore back from sleeping on a bench too. And I smell. Living on the streets has just got to me. It’s broken me down. I’ve no money left and have to steal, or go behind supermarkets and steal from their bins. I feel disgusted with myself. But I can’t go back home, I mean it.

It’s a dull day. One of those days were you just sit alone and think. Personally I hate those days. I hate thinking about life and what I’ve done and haven’t done and all that crap. Because it brings up confrontations. And you start to question things more, and all that other crap. I just wanna lay back and live. Chill. Not worry and not question everything that comes across my path.
The wind was blowing softly, whipping my hair against my face. The sound of cars and people filled my ears, then I heard the drumming again. It was soft this time, almost sorrowful. I strolled across the stone court and sat down on the steps. I looked up towards the window on the second floor. I smiled and leaned back against the next step. The cold wind still blowing. I drum my fingers along to the beat.

“Cold, are you not?” I look down the steps. The drummer. I didn’t even notice the drumming stopped I was so wrapped in my own little world. God, I just embarrass myself.
“Not much, no,” I said, watching him walk up the steps towards me. He sat down beside me and took out a cigarette and lit it.
“I’ve been watching you,” drummer boy said. I scooted away from him a bit. I’m already freaked out.
“Oh not that way! I’ve just saw you on that bench, you’ve been there an awful long time. I saw you cry earlier, I drummed along to it, made a beat out of it really,” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Well God, that’s comforting,” I scoffed, waving the cigarette smoke out of my face. The drummer laughed and put out his cigarette.
“I’m Rick,”
“I’m Theo,”
I looked over at this Rick, as he has seemed to went quite. He was laughing uncontrollably quiet to himself.
“What are you laughing at?” I narrowed my eyebrows.
“Sorry, but you’re name, it’s bloody hilarious!” He spluttered out.
I could feel myself blushing.
“Yeah…well, shut up,” I murmured.
“I’m sorry man, are you hungry?” Rick asked.
“Starving,” I patted my stomach.
“Here, take this and get something to eat,” he put his hand in his pocket and took out a twenty pound note.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I lowered my head because my eyes were starting to tear up again. This is the nicest thing that has happened to me yet.
“No problem, well I’ll see you later, I’ve got to go, you’ll still be around, right?” Rick asked, standing up. I nodded and he walked down the steps and left. I look at the money in my hand and squealed. I can actually eat today.