you couldn't fix what I couldn't find

REMI

the lullaby

It's like those scenes in films, where all you can see are feet moving by. Remi could see more if he looked, but he doesn't. He very intentionally doesn't, preferring to let his mind make shapes out of the grains of wood in the floorboards. But as the man falls Remi is helpless to do anything but look up, his body tense with adrenaline. Frozen as if Finn is some predator who might not notice him if he doesn't move, he almost seems surprised as he's spoken to as if having truly believed himself to have become one with the shadows. But that magic is more than a decade off, and so he is indeed easily seen.

"No, I am—" The accent is rougher now, having not been smoothed out. He isn't new. To this place perhaps, but they're all the same. The sounds are the same. The sickly-sweet smells. The vibrations in the floorboards. The boy sidles back into the shadows, hands around his knees which pull tightly into the small and cramped space beneath the stairs.  

"Sorry." He whispers, his knobby-knees fresh with scabs tucked under his chin. Unlike Finn who has to maintain some form of hygiene, Remi's curls are oily and matted with mud, and his face is freckled with dirt. What he wears is tattered and soiled, mended time and time again by hands that don't quite know what they're doing.

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Code taken from Sky who is utter perfection