Devon doesn't see the world like you or I, he's a beautiful soul wrapped in a beautiful body all wrapped up in an enigma. So as the rain throws itself at him as if he were on the deck of a ship out in the vast ocean, he just smiles. As others race for cover in a city where there's always shelter, he stands stock still. Arms spread feeling the tiny stings of the heavy drops, face tilted to the sky and his shoulder length hair looking like bladderwrack clinging to a rock. The square was empty save for him, his pumps sodden but he wiggled his toes as if he stood on a beach dipping his toes in the shallow waves. He was happy.

People were nodding his way from under the eaves of a myriad of shopfronts. They laughed and thought him an oddity, sneered and sipped their coffee in the many restaurants and cafes that overlooked him. He was cute, petite, young. They told themselves it was the exuberance of youth, but in truth he was 28. It wasn't youthful folly at all that had him stood there spinning in the centre of a busy city centre. They blamed it on being "simple" "affected" "a looney", "just another headcase in a world full of nutters."

Devon's shirt had become see through. It clung to his pale, lithe yet muscular physique. He didn't work out, but he was slim and kept busy in his mundane job that gave him a workout. He didn't really think of how he looked to others, he just thought only of how he felt inside. At this present time he'd shut out the outside world by closing his eyes. It...