What the Hell am I Doing Here?

                                    

                                          
Gotham. The famous city of garbage, crime, and the dwelling of everything horrible, truly a cesspool of everything dirty and vile. Trash was piled high on the streets filling every nook and cranny with its putrid stench. Prostitutes and drug dealers on every street corner, a siren always blasting whether it be a cop or ambulance, and riots in front of every government building. 'No place like home' Richie thought, taking a deep inhale of virulent, cold air.
                          
It had been years since he had been inside the heart of Gotham, walked on the filthy pavement or smelled the toxic fumes emitting from the dilapidating city. Ever since he moved to the cozy little suburb on the outskirts of town, he's completely avoided going back at all costs. Growing up in one of Gotham's many rundown, neglectful orphanages was a grueling first few years of his life, but he was one of the lucky ones. He shudders at the memories of that dreadful place. 'I owe you guys' he thought, sighing and looking up at the sky. He had never been religious, but ever since his adoptive parents passed, he wished he was.
                          
Around the age of ten, Richie was adopted by the Stauber family. A man and a woman, both aged around forty-five and of moderate wealth, fell in love with him when they first met at the orphanage. They were the dream parents that every orphan fantasizes about. They were laid back, but strict enough that he had discipline. They made sure he did his chores and homework, but never argued or yelled if he began to fall behind. They never insulted his dream to become a famous poet or chastised him when he dyed his hair, and most importantly, they supported Richie's "alternative lifestyle". They truly were ahead of their time.
                          
Tears began to peek out of the corners of Richie's eyes as he lets his body be consumed in the warmth of nostalgia, but he quickly wiped them away, slightly dislodging his oversized, round eyeglasses. 'Gotham is no place to show vulnerability'.
                          
After a long, bitter cold trek across Gotham, Richie's new apartment building was in sight. A smile teases the corner of his lips as he adds a little more of a skip in his step, still being careful to not rattle the boxes he was carrying too much either. With a backpack and two medium-sized boxes, he was finally able to finish his week-long move. Albeit he doesn't have many items and most of them are hoarded up in his parent's old storage unit, it's still hard to move everything from one side of Gotham to the other with only using movers for furniture. Despite having a modest amount of inheritance money, he can still be a bit of a cheapskate.
                          
Warm air hit Richie's cold flesh like thousands of heavenly kisses after he finally succeeded in opening the door leading into the lobby after several clumsy attempts. With a huff of triumph and content, he looks around and absorbs his surroundings. The dim, flickering, ambient lights did a piss poor job of providing proper visibility and the floors, walls, and peeling, unsightly paint added to the aged, rickety appearance of the entranceway, yet something was so... aesthetically pleasing about it.
                          
Richie was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening behind him; a wave of cold air nips at his back and leaves him scowling slightly. The intruder brushes by him and heads straight for the mailroom--if you could even call it a "room"--checks the mail, and disappears into the stairway before Richie even had the chance to utter a word. He was so used to people at least giving him a weird look because of his faded out blue hair. 'Well, he must've had a bad day' he thought, but who could blame him? Who doesn't have a bad day in Gotham? Pressing the button for the elevator to take him up to his apartment, he shifts his weight and lets out another tired sigh.
                          
"Doney, done, done, and done!" Richie exclaims wiping his hands together. Everything is unpacked at last. Grabbing the newspaper he collected a couple nights before, he plops down on the couch and begins reading, searching for any 'Help Wanted' ads that seemed promising. Yes, he had inheritance money, but he put the bulk of it in savings and left only enough for a couple of month's rent and living costs. His parents worked hard for the money they left him and he didn't want to pour it all down the drain. He used a red pen to circle the very few job opportunities that weren't across town and said a silent 'thank you' to his past self for already getting his resume together before the move. He wasn't too picky about what kind of work he was in, beggars can't be choosers after all, but he'd rather apply somewhere close by before he resorts anything else.
                          
A loud growl erupted from the pit of his stomach reminding him of how long it had been since he ate. He got up and was ready to fetch his coat when his disappointed gaze met the clock. 2:28 am. "Fuck!" he groaned louder than he meant, he couldn't believe how fast he lost track of time, but he did get started unpacking late after all. With another loud groan and opened his cabinet and wasn't shocked when he saw nothing. 'You never went grocery shopping, what did you expect?' Richie cursed at himself. It wasn't the first time he had a glass of water and sleep for dinner, but after all the exercise from the day, he was hungry, but with a defeated huff, he laid back down on the couch and let his mind drift.
                          
'What was that guy's problem earlier? Was it something I said?' Richie laughed to himself slightly over this, 'Of course, it wasn't something you said! You didn't say anything at all! Maybe he could just tell by the way that you stand that you are a pathetic fa-' He cut that thought off before it could even finish knowing that his anxiety was beginning to get the best of him. Truth be told, no one knew about his sexuality apart from his parents, but to be fair, it was only decriminalized in his state a year ago. No more dancing in the shadows and secret meet n' greets in dirty bathrooms, not that he was apart of those anyways.
                          
Thoughts and daydreams dance behind tired eyelids for what seems like decades before sleep finally began to take over Richie's exhausted soul. With his brain always bouncing a mile a minute, it was hard for him to rest properly. Tonight was just like any other except his thoughts were more focused on the mysterious stranger he met in the lobby. 'Let's see what tomorrow brings' was the last thought firing off in his brain before he completely succumbed to the Sandman's will.

                          
A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!! Please, leave feedback in the comments!