A throw away

The scars that stayed

Two days passed hazily for the one in Takashi's guest room. Sometimes the person groaned and spoke feverishly. The words were incoherent and from time to time a rushing river but mostly like rain drops, quiet but thundering against the window panes in great number.

By the third day the young man had managed to stay conscious. His eyes darted around the room and warily looked at Takashi. Yet he did not have the strength to stand but only sit up in bed. He, apparently, had the strength to angrily glare at Takashi.

Bad cook that Takashi was he still managed to make some decent broth and in the next try a good chicken soup. For once he left the kitchen in disarray and hurried away from the mess. Emergency goes first.

The stranger wouldn't touch the bowl until Takashi had his eyes on him so he turned his back and opened a closet, acting like he was searching for blankets. He heard the slurps and the spoon hitting the sides of the bowl. So without turning around he went out the door and filled two more bowls. Takashi then placed them on a tray with slices of bread.

When he got back the dish he left was empty and back at the bedside table. He sat down on an armchair and faced the stranger on the mattress then seeing the scowling face approached closely. On the bedside table was a glass and a pitcher of water, he poured some and talked

"My name is Takashi, I found you and brought you to my house. You shouldn't be afraid of me. Can you tell me your name?"

He got no response. He didn't expect there would be any. Still it would have been helpful.

"Okay then. No rush. You don't trust me yet." He handed the glass and the other took it and sipped warily. Everything he did warily.

Takashi sat back down on the far arm chair. "Do you want more food?" The other was surprised at the question and nodded. "Alright then." Takashi fetched the tray from the kitchen and returned. Hey his food was edible.

This time the stranger ate even when he was faced. Before the second bowl and the last piece of bread was gone one word was spoken and Takashi barely caught it. "Gumi"

What the food was terrible? That was Takashi's first thought then he figured that the other answered his question earlier. His name was Gumi.

Takashi had 3 days off so far. He would call take a longer leave if needed. This one's life was in his hands and he needed to get him to a relative or someone he knew. Anyone who could care for Gumi.

When he was finished eating Takashi cleaned up and left the room to wash the dishes. And in his return he found the weak patient sprawled on the floor, crawling to a door.

"What are you doing out of bed? Look at you. You are not strong enough. Let me help you up."

Gumi was being scolded and he appeared to shrink as he was frozen there. "Toilet."

"Oh. Well you can't get there like a worm." Takashi laughed. It was not a teasing laugh but one of amusement. He carried the weightless one over his shoulder and closed the door after him. Takashi bellowed. "I can lend you some clothes. You should change out of those dirty ones. And if you have the strength by tomorrow, take a bath."

Gumi hated baths, he was not going to take off his clothes, his only possessions, and that strange man was probably going to burn or throw away his clothes. Gumi liked the food but he was already decided. He was going to escape. As soon as the man was asleep he was going to leave. He had to. He did not belong here. But he did not belong anywhere else either. He never did. He would be back in the streets, back to being free.

After he pissed he left the bathroom. When he got out Takashi looked at him accusingly. "That was quick. Did you even wash your hands? And here put this on." A pair of pajamas was handed to him and Gumi would not take them. "No."