In the seediest parts of Edinburgh, shrouded in fog and weakly flickering street lamps barely penetrating through, a tall figure slunk through the streets in a hurry. All was silent save for some stray animal meandering about in the dark alleys, digging through trash and the pounding of combat boots against the wet cobblestone pavement.
The figure passed under a patch of street where the fog was thin and the light not so dim, and for a brief moment, one could see that it was a young man, not much older than nineteen. His face was mostly in the shadow of a hood pulled low, but his unnatural red bangs poked out from underneath. A pair of narrow amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark like a cat’s, eerie and watchful.
Slinking back into the cover of the thick fog that prevailed during this time in Scotland, he continued along the street, deeper and deeper into the unsavoury neighbourhoods of this part of Edinburgh. The light seemed to get dimmer and dimmer, until there was barely any light at all. The fog only grew thicker, thin wisps floating and curling up in the air as the young man hurried through.
Occasionally sparing a glance over his shoulder, he slowed his step to a steady walk as he approached a dingy little flat. Even in the darkness, he could see the paint peeling off its walls, the large cracks in the plaster. The door was hardly in any better condition. Worn and weathered from age, there were scratches large and small in the wood, and there were even chipped out bits at the bottom.
He placed an ear against the door and heard the sounds of snoring. Smiling to himself under the hood, he fished out a small key and quietly unlocked the door. The snores only grew louder as he stepped into the empty parlour, which was little more than a thoroughly scuffed wooden floor and a bin stuffed with broken umbrellas tucked away into a corner.
Mrs. Douglas knew about his little midnight walks, and had made sure he had a spare key to her flat. Quite a rare privilege, for that ill-tempered old crone would rather impose a curfew like they were all schoolchildren. However, he’d just stomp about in his room and keep all her tenants awake and complaining otherwise. Why she didn’t kick him out instead was a mystery to this day.
The stairs creaked under his weight as he ascended up to his room on the second storey of the flat. His room was in complete darkness, as it always was since Mrs. Douglas couldn’t bother getting proper lightbulbs installed. However, spending nearly every single night wide awake had made him practically nocturnal, and the darkness didn’t bother him one bit.
However, his pallid face and dark circles under his eyes signalled that his health was in jeapordy. Unfortunately, however much he longed to lie down in his tiny, uncomfortable bed and drift off into a long slumber, his eyes refused to close, and his mind refused to settle down. He simply would not get tired. The point of all the midnight walks was to tire him out enough to get a few hours of sleep at least, and while that worked sometimes, most of the time he’d still be awake.
It didn’t help that Mrs. Douglas was too cheap to have underfloor heating in the flat, and when winter rolled around, he would be left to fend for himself in the chill.
His thoughts were interrupted a buzz in the pocket of his trousers. Only one person could be calling at this time of night.
“Hello?”
He listened intently, still as a statue where he stood. The voice on the other line sounded important, but gave very few details. All he needed to know, said the other line, was to head for the Edinburgh Airport first thing in the morning, and to get some sleep if he could. The young man sighed. It was easier said than done, but he murmured his yesses into the phone anyway and ended the call soon after.
The tiny cot, barely even a bed, creaked under his weight as he sat on it. As he stared into the darkness of his drab, dark apartment, he knew it would be one of those sleepless nights.