The heat seemed to seep into every crack, every niche as sweat gathered on the palms and face of the teen standing under the sunlight. The buildings seemed to shiver in the weather, but Cyar wasn’t focused on that at the moment. He was gazing absentmindedly at a stranger, trying not to let the temperature get to his mind.
“Hey, ya know ya can get heatstroke standin’ out here, right.”
The voice reached Attai’s ears a second later than it should have. Heat clogged his senses; maybe if he collapsed, someone would take him to a hospital or something. He didn’t have the strength to walk back home, and the area around him seemed mainly residential. The thought to take his jacket off to alleviate a bit of the temperature occurred to him, but it was outweighed by his desire to not see the scars that marked him.
“I’m aware,” the teen said to the other, who looked a couple years younger than him. “I just don’t have the energy to go home. Is there some sort of bus system nearby, or a shop I could take shelter in?”
