Chapter 4: Street Life Ain’t Fun (But It Builds Character, Apparently)

Chapter 4: Street Life Ain't Fun (But It Builds Character, Apparently)

Being homeless sucked.

Not that Bright needed a firsthand experience to know that. But, well—life wasn't big on giving him options.

One day, he had a home. A weird, messy, chaotic home, but a home nonetheless.

The next?

Gone.

Roland's relatives didn't even try to be nice about it.

One of them—a woman in a stiff blazer and a permanent scowl—shoved a trash bag at him and muttered something about "taking his things and leaving."

Bright, still numb from the whole Roland-is-dead situation, just stared at the bag.

Half of those things weren't even his.

Some clothes. A few books Roland had bought him. A freaking toothbrush.

That was it.

The house he had lived in for a year, the dog he'd played with every morning, the fridge that once actually had food in it—none of it was his.

Caspian was gone too.

Bright didn't even get to say goodbye.

That part hurt the most.

He didn't know where they sent him. Didn't know if the mutt was okay, if he missed him, if he was happy with whoever had taken him in.

But Bright?

Bright was on his own.

---

Survival 101: Be Unnoticeable

Bright figured out pretty quickly that surviving on the streets was all about not standing out.

People ignored homeless adults all the time. But a kid? Alone?

That got attention. And attention?

Dangerous.

So Bright learned to blend in.

He kept his head down, avoided cops, and stuck to places where people wouldn't ask questions.

Shelters? Overcrowded and full of rules. He used them sometimes, but they weren't safe either.

Begging? Not an option. Pride wouldn't let him.

So, instead—

Odd jobs.

Nothing fancy, nothing stable. Just whatever he could find.

Washing dishes in the back of a diner. Carrying boxes for store owners. Sweeping up barbershops.

Sometimes, if he was lucky, he'd get a meal as payment. Other times? Just a few bucks.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Enough to keep moving. Enough to keep going.

---

School: The Only Thing He Had Left

Bright could've dropped out.

Most kids in his position would've. No home, no guardian, no reason to stay.

But something—maybe pure stubbornness—kept him going.

School was stability.

It was the one thing that hadn't changed. The one place where he could sit in a warm room for a few hours and pretend he wasn't homeless.

It helped that he wasn't failing.

He wasn't a genius or anything, but he kept his grades just good enough to pass. Just enough to not get noticed.

Except, of course—

Teachers noticed anyway.

"Bright, are you eating properly?"

"Bright, do you need help with anything?"

"Bright, we can talk if something's wrong."

He had a whole collection of excuses ready.

"Yeah, I ate."

"No, I'm fine."

"Just tired."

They didn't push. Teachers had dozens of kids to worry about, and Bright knew how to make himself just another face in the crowd.

As long as he showed up, as long as he turned in his work, they wouldn't ask too many questions.

It worked.

For a while.

---

The Abandoned House (AKA, Home Sweet Home… Kind Of)

Bright didn't always have a place to sleep.

Sometimes it was a shelter. Sometimes an alley, tucked behind some crates where no one would see him.

But then he found the house.

It wasn't really a house anymore. More like a skeleton of one.

The windows? Broken. The door? Hanging off its hinges. The inside? Dusty, abandoned, and falling apart.

Perfect.

Because no one cared about it.

Which meant no one would care if he stayed.

So Bright set up a system.

Sneak in through the window.

Keep his stuff hidden.

Never stay too long.

It wasn't safe. Nowhere was.

But at least it was something.

---

Graduation Day (And the Worst Escape Ever)

Bright never really thought about what came after school.

Because thinking ahead wasn't a luxury he had.

One day at a time. That's how he survived. That's how he lived.

But now?

Now he was standing in a stuffy gym, surrounded by other students in borrowed graduation gowns, and it was finally hitting him.

This is it.

No more school. No more free lunches. No more pretending I'm normal.

What now?

Everyone else had plans. College, jobs, family celebrations.

Bright?

Bright had an abandoned house and a bag of clothes.

The second the ceremony ended, he slipped out. No pictures. No goodbyes. Just out.

And that's when things got… complicated.

---

The Great Rooftop Escape

Bright had one rule about his living situation.

Don't get caught.

It was an unspoken agreement between him and the city. The abandoned house was empty, he wasn't causing trouble, so no one cared.

Until, apparently, someone did.

Because as Bright reached the house, he saw something that made his stomach drop.

A guy. Middle-aged, annoyed, holding a clipboard.

The kind of guy that checked on abandoned properties.

The kind of guy that called the cops when he found street kids squatting.

Shit.

Bright didn't think. He moved.

He ducked behind a dumpster, heart pounding. The guy hadn't seen him. Yet.

But his stuff? Still inside.

I need to grab it. Fast.

Bright crept toward the window, keeping low. The guy was still near the front, talking on the phone.

Perfect.

With a quick glance around, he hauled himself up and slid through the window.

Step one: Successful.

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder—

And then—

"What the—HEY!"

Bright froze.

Shitshitshit.

The guy had moved faster than expected.

No time to think. No time to plan.

Just—

RUN.

Bright bolted. Straight for the stairs, up instead of out.

"STOP!" the guy yelled. "You're TRESPASSING!"

Yeah, no kidding.

Bright took the stairs three at a time. The guy followed, footsteps loud, angry.

But Bright had one advantage.

He was fast.

He reached the second floor, turned a sharp corner—

And jumped.

Right out the window.

His feet hit the roof of the next building hard. His legs screamed at him, but he didn't stop.

Parkour mode: Activated.

One rooftop. Then another. Then—

Gone.

By the time he stopped running, he was blocks away.

He collapsed onto an empty fire escape, breathing hard.

That was… way too close.

The house was burned. He couldn't go back.

Which meant—

Back to square one.

Nowhere to go. Again.

Bright laughed, breathless.

"Man… my life sucks."