bambi eyes || tradley

4. bambi

"Why did you attack the police officers?" Tristan angrily questioned, pacing back and forth in front of the TV's once again blank screen. The boy was becoming too interested in it after Tristan flicked through the channels until he somehow landed on Charlie and Lola. The brown-eyed boy shamelessly ignored all of Tristan's questions, giving the TV all his full attention, like there wasn't an angry man demanding answers in front of him.

"I was defending myself," the curly-haired boy simply replied.

"Defending yourself?" Tristan repeated. "You can't just attack authority and return to my home afterwards! Now you're in my possession and I could be held accountable for unintentionally hiding you in my flat after you attacked all the police officers in the station!"

"Oops," he unapologetically said.

"Yeah, oops," Tristan spat, running a hand over his face out of frustration. "I can't keep you here any longer with your face on the news!"

"Hm," the boy thoughtfully said, thinking over the blond's words. "I'm assuming you want me to leave?"

"Exactly!" The blue-eyed boy sighed of relief, glad that all his yelling at least gave the strange boy some sort of understanding. Sometimes he feels like what he says goes in one ear and flows out the other.

"Okay, I will leave."

"Wait"-Tristan furrowed his brows-"you will?"

"Yes." He nodded his head, standing up from the couch and smoothing down his olive green jacket. "I realise that I've made a mistake, and I will own up to it."

A smile spread on Tristan's face. Getting him to leave was easier than he thought. "Great!"

The small boy stumbled over towards the door, imitating Tristan's actions and unlatching the lock, like he'd seen that morning, before pulling open his doorknobless door. "Goodbye, Tristan. I apologise for my mistakes."

"Mm-hm, yeah, adiós." The twenty-one-year-old carelessly waved the small boy off, plopping down on the arm of the couch. Waving a small hand at him, Nineteen-Seventeen closed the door, his sad face disappearing behind it.

On cue, the unconscious body sprawled out on his couch stirred. Connor groaned in pain, slowly rolling over on his side and breathing heavily. His blue eyes slowly fluttered open, confusion lacing his features as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. Tristan let out a nervous laugh at his confused co-worker. The younger boy slowly rose from the couch, scratching the back of his head and glancing around the living room.

"Where am I?" Connor groaned. "Why does everything hurt?"

"Oh, Con." Tristan laughed at his state and slid off the arm of the couch and onto the cushions. "You don't even want to know the beginning of it."

. . .

Nighttime fell before Tristan even knew it. After creating a huge story about his co-worker getting tipsy and Tristan having to drag his unconscious friend over to his flat, Connor brushed himself off and left, thanking his best mate for taking care of him. Tristan sort of felt bad about lying - lying was definitely not his thing - but he couldn't explain the situation with the brown-eyed boy. It was far too complicated and risky, hence his face was shown on the news. Connor most likely wouldn't try to get his best mate into any trouble, but Tristan wasn't taking any chances. Him and Nineteen-Seventeen were the only ones who knew of his presence being around the blond, and Tristan wasn't planning on letting anyone else in on the fact he knew the curly-haired boy.

"I'm just adding some finishing touches to my project for class," Tristan told his mum through the phone, his long fingers slowly finding each key on his laptop's keyboard. He wondered why his group chose the most Internet confused person to finish their assignment. "School is going to be the death of me, Mum, or it's going to be my job."