Alex

I took a step forward and caught the boy before he managed to hit the ground, though a different kind of a thud was heard and I looked down at a small backpack and a guitar case.

“Woah there, what’s going on?” I asked, despite knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. I quickly pulled myself together and wrapped my arms around the little frame of the boy and carried him inside the house. My clothes were soaking by the time I got him to the couch and I wondered what the hell he was thinking, walking around in weather like this. I lay him down before walking back to grab his belongings and closing the door. I put them in the corner of the room and walked over to the couch.

The boy was pale, except for his bleeding lip and the bruise on his cheek I was sure I hadn’t put there. He was wearing a simple Face to Face t-shirt, same skinny jeans and black sneakers, which was absolutely not a suitable style for 45 °F.

Jack’s lip continued bleeding, so I decided to fetch a towel and a plaster. It proved to be difficult to clean him up because his lips were quivering the whole time. As soon as I had finished, I put my hand on his forehead. He was absolutely freezing.

Not entirely sure of how to deal with this situation, I got up to get another blanket or two from my room. The boy was obviously on the verge of getting a fever and the soaking clothes weren’t helping, but the idea of me removing his clothes seemed extremely inappropriate and uncomfortable.

But then again, I owed him that for his broken nose.

I sighed and grabbed some of my older clothes along with the blankets, as well as a warm cardigan. I ran down the stairs and the sight of the boy shivering away was like another punch in my guts. What the hell had happened to him? Why had he come to me? Shouldn’t I hate him?

A whimper left Jack’s mouth and I snapped out of my thoughts, quickly pulling off his shirt, only to be stopped once again by what I saw.

The boy’s chest was covered with multiple bruises, some smaller and already fading away, but also some that looked recent. I felt horrified and angry. How could someone do such a thing to this boy? I used the towel to carefully dry him off and pulled my old Green Day shirt over his head, then buttoned the cardigan and put a pillow under his head. Next I removed his sneakers and hesitated for a while.

Dammit. They’d do the same if he was in a hospital. You’re just trying to help him.

I sighed and pulled off his jeans, dropping them next to the sneakers.

And gasped again.

If the previous view hadn’t got to me, then this did. There were similar bruises on the kid’s legs, but this time it wasn’t all. There were some scars on his thighs. Some long, thin scars. They were old and had healed well, but the point was that they were there when they shouldn’t have existed at all. My heart clenched in pity.

I removed the boy’s underwear while looking away and replaced it by new, dry boxers and hurriedly pulled on warm jeans over his scarred legs. As soon as that was finished, I covered him with the blankets I had fetched and put his wet clothes in a dryer.

When I returned to the living room, a strange feeling hit me. The look of the younger boy on my couch reminded me of something I had wondered about a few minutes ago – shouldn’t I hate him? He had indeed pulled my heart out and stepped onto it, similarly to Josh.

Except, well, it was my own stupidity that got me here.

But the sudden realization that Jack was still the boy who had talked to me during those endless nights when I had felt bad, when I had needed help, when I had needed a friend – even if he had lied about who he was and what he looked like – surely he couldn’t have faked the friendship we had in the beginning. And that is why I felt a strange urge to help him recover from whatever had happened.

I wasn’t going to admit it, though. Not yet. I did feel betrayed by him. I was betrayed by him. No matter what his reasons were, he had still played with my feelings.

-

It was five episodes of Doctor Who later when the boy stirred in his sleep and whimpered. I looked away from the screen – I couldn’t have left him alone now, could I? Zack could’ve returned whenever and he wouldn’t have been glad to find a stranger in the living room – and saw the boy tossing around underneath the sheets. He continued whimpering and mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

I walked over and knelt next to him, putting my hand on his shoulder to wake him up. He didn’t seem to feel it, though.

“Jack? Wake up,” I whispered, giving his shoulder another shake.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the TV screen on the wall, which is why I was surprised to hear a sob and realize that the boy was in fact crying – whether he was conscious of it or not.

“Jack?”

He stopped whimpering, but still seemed to be deep in his sleep. A few more tears rolled down his cheeks and he turned to the side, proving the point that, yes, he was still asleep.

I pulled the corners of the blanket over him again and decided to get myself a snack, my backside already hurting from sitting in that damn armchair for so long.

-

“Alex?” a voice said from somewhere next to me.

“Mmmph, Zee, leave me alone,” I muttered.

“I-I, uh, i-it’s Jack, actually,” the boy said and my eyes snapped open. Fuck, shit. I looked around, realizing I had fallen asleep on the armchair after all, a bowl of crisps still in my hands. How embarrassing.

“Ugh,” I groaned and sat up straight, setting the bowl down onto the floor and massaging my neck lightly.

I looked up at the boy, who was sitting with his arms around his knees on the couch, a blanket loosely around his shoulders and his hair a mess of blonde and black strands. A blush was creeping on his cheeks as I stared at him in silence. Awkward silence.

“Tea?” I asked all of the sudden and the boy’s eyes widened, possibly because he hadn’t expected that. He nodded though, quickly looking away when our eyes met.

I got up and walked to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and picking up two tea bags. The clock on the wall said it was six in the morning, too early for my liking. The good thing about my work was I could sleep until midday. I poured the hot water into the cups and let the tea brew for a while before carrying the cups back to the living room.

Jack was sitting in the same pose and only looked up when I handed him the cup.

“It’s pretty hot, watch out,” I pointed out.

“T-thank you,” he muttered quietly.

“So,” I said as I sat down back in my armchair. “What is this? How do you even know where I live?” I asked, my tone coming out a bit harsh – but I couldn’t help it.

“Y-you told me on Facebook. W-when you wanted t-to meet me,” he said, biting his lip the same way he had when I had confronted him at his house.

“Oh,” I breathed. I had completely forgotten that. “Why are you here then? I told you I never wanted to see you again,” I demanded, quite coldly too. It was true, though, I didn’t want to deal with this boy. Well, hadn’t wanted. It was a bit too late for that now.

He flinched and held the cup closer to his face. “M-my dad kicked me out,” he finally said. “I-I d-didn’t know where else t-to go. I don’t have the money to go anywhere and I-I’m not exactly t-the person to h-have friends who could h-help me out,” he finished, almost tripping over some words here and there. It looked like he was about to cry, but instead took a shaky breath and didn’t let himself break down.

“Why did he kick you out?” I asked, looking in his eyes.

“H-he.. W-well, he f-found out I-I’m gay. I-it just kind of slipped out of my mouth and h-he gave me a few minutes to g-get out. H-he..” Jack trailed off, using his wrist to brush away the tears that had fallen despite his best attempts.

“I-it was raining and I-I didn’t k-know where to go, so I w-walked h-here. I don’t remember w-what happened,” he finished, his voice cracking. My stomach gave a little lurch and I almost wanted to comfort the boy. He had walked all the way from one side of Baltimore to the other, in rain and cold. Whose parents could do such a cruel thing to their child just because of his orientation? Didn’t he have a mother who could help him? I decided not to ask.

“You were soaking and you fainted as soon as I opened the door. I’m surprised you didn’t get a fever. I put your clothes in the dryer,” the boy blushed, probably realizing what had happened to his clothes now. “That’s pretty much it, you were out for a few hours,” I explained, dismissing the part about his nightmare.

“T-thank you s-so much, I-I know I d-didn’t deserve any of t-this, I-I promise I’ll leave as soon a-as I c-change,” he stuttered and put the cup down, ready to get up.

“Look, Jack,” I started and his eyes shot up to look at me immediately. “Uh, well, you said you don’t have anywhere to go, correct?”

The boy nodded.

“I suppose you could stay here for a while. I share this house with my friend, but we have a spare room,” I said. The boy’s eyes lit up, but he looked down soon enough. I frowned.

“I-I don’t w-want to bother y-you. You h-hate me, I-I don’t want you to take me in b-because of pity, I d-don’t deserve it,” he mumbled.

I smiled at him calmly. “Zee won’t mind looking after another bony arse, so you can stay. I'll be fine,” I said.

“Y-you sure?” Jack asked, still uncertain.

I nodded. Even though I felt torn, I didn't have the heart to let the boy wander around the streets.

“Come on, I’ll make us something to eat,” I said and the kid slowly got up, following me into the kitchen with bare feet, still blushing and clutching to one of the blankets.

What had I gotten myself into?

Notes

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