Prompt- Essentially Mivah's backstory/how he met Alexis
------------------------------------------
Micah curled up in the corner of his bedroom. The light in his lamp had gone out, so this corner was dark. He made himself as small as possible in it, hoping that if anyone came in, they wouldn't see him.
He could hear his father screaming from the living room. He was stomping around and throwing things, the house shaking alongside his rage. Every once in a while, Micah could hear a bottle shattering.
A whimper escape Micah's lips, his eyes shooting to the door as if he had just announced his presence to the world. But no one came in, not yet.
Tears were crawling down his face. He pressed his lips together, desperate to remain silent. He wished he didn't exist.
The door opened and Micah's heart beat against his chest furiously. He sank down even more in the corner, begging to go undetected.
"Micah?"
The voice wasn't angry and full of hate. It was soft, gentle, loving. The door shut, and Micah peeked over.
"Mommy," he said, voice quiet.
She went over, kneeling next to the four year old boy, pulling him into her arms, hugging him, wanting him to feel safe despite the hell he was in. He hugged her back, burying his face against her shoulder.
"I'll change your lightbulb for you, if you want," she said.
Micah nodded. He knew his father must have been hitting his mother. She had bruises forming on her that hadn't been there this morning.
"Don't be scared," she soothed, stroking his hair as she held him. "I'm right here. I love you, Micah." She wanted to get him out of this house, but she couldn't right now. Not until she had more money and a safe place to hide with Micah. Micah's father hadn't started drinking until Micah was a few months old. And the situation didn't get this desperate until Micah was almost two.
Micah's bedroom door suddenly banged open. His father stormed in, reeking of alcohol and shaking with rage.
Micah trembled viciously as his mother pushed him behind herself protectively. She met her husband's eyes, hiding her fear.
He stormed over, grabbing her roughly and throwing her to the side. He knelt down and held his hand out.
"C'mere Micah," he said.
Micah stared at him in terror. He didn't want to go near his father.
"Don't piss me off. Come. Here." He kept his hand out, his eyes daring Micah to disobey him.
Micah timidly walked forward. His dad pat his head.
"Good boy," he said, and punched Micah in the face.
Micah fell back, unable to help the cry that escape his mouth. He curled on the ground as his father towered over him.
"Shut up!" he boomed.
"Leave him alone! His four!" Micah's mother cried, throwing herself in front of him as her husband kicked at him.
"I'll deal with both of you later," he snarled, kicking his wife hard before leaving the room, slamming the door.
"Micah." She lifted him into her arms, cradling him as he sobbed against her. "It'll be okay. I promise I'll get us out of here. I promise you'll be safe." She hugged him tightly. "I love you so much, okay? You're going to be safe soon."
She coughed, a hacking cough that had been growing steadily worse. She knew she was sick, but she needed to save the money to get her and Micah out of here. She couldn't waste it on appointments and medicine.
"You'll be safe," she whispered again, rocking with her son.
***
Micah hugged his knees to his chest, eyes red from crying. His back rested against a stone building as he sat next to trash bags.
His father had taken him out and, growing annoyed with Micah as he shivered from the cold, had finally snapped. He had thrown Micah against the building, told him that he didn't want the burden of a kid anymore, and left Micah.
It was cold out, and Micah was dressed in only jeans and a tattered long sleeved shirt. He was freezing, his sneakers old and torn, making his feet just as cold.
His mother had gotten horribly sick, dying not long ago. Without her to protect him, Micah had endured beating after beating from his father. Sometimes his father would just drag Micah close and scream at him until his throat got sore.
Micah missed his mom. He missed the way she'd hug him and smile at him even when she'd just been hit. He missed her comforting him after one of his father's fits. He missed her kissing him and telling him how much she loved him. He missed her loving smile and the way she always made him feel safe and like he belonged.
People walked down the strip where Micah was, too preoccupied to see him or just pretending that they were too preoccupied to see him. He was shivering harder as the sun began to drop lower in the sky.
Micah's eyes watered, but he felt too exhausted to start crying again. He hugged his knees tighter, trying to keep warm, feeling terrified and horribly alone.
"Excuse me?"
Micah looked up, shrinking back in fear. A red haired boy stood a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of a jacket that was a little too small on him. He knelt down in front of Micah, keeping a comfortable distance.
"Are you lost?" he asked. His voice was polite, with a certain kindness to it that Micah wasn't used to.
Micah shook his head. He wasn't lost, not really. He just had nowhere to go. His father said he didn't want Micah anymore.
"Do you have parents?" the boy asked.
Micah shook his head again, tears gathering once more. "My mommy died. My daddy said he didn't want me anymore." The tears spilled over. "He left me here."
The boy unwrapped the scarf he was wearing from his neck and slowly reached out. Micah flinched back in terror, but the boy carefully wrapped the scarf around him.
"My name is Alexis. What's your name?" he asked.
"M-Micah." Micah gripped the scarf to warm his hands a little.
Alexis reached out, gently placing his hand on Micah's head. It should've made him think of his father. It should've made him sob in fear. But instead, it felt comforting.
"Do you want to come with me? You can take a hot bath and wear warm clothes. You can sleep on a bed. We can figure out what to do," Alexis said. He couldn't leave a little boy on the streets like this. Micah would die of starvation or freeze to death.
Micah's mother had warned him about strangers. But Alexis seemed sincere. And Micah was afraid to be alone on the streets in the dark. He knew he wasn't in a good neighborhood right now.
Micah nodded. Alexis held a hand out, and Micah took it. Alexis pulled Micah to his feet. He shrugged out of the jacket he was wearing and helped Micah into it. It was far too big on the little boy, but it would hopefully keep him warm until they got to the house.
"Do you want me to carry you? It's a bit of a walk, and you look tired," Alexis said.
Micah raised his arms, allowing Alexis to pick him up. He was usually horribly afraid of all men, but he just couldn't find it in himself to be afraid of someone with such kind eyes.
Alexis carried Micah as he began to walk again. He knew his friends would give him hell about bringing an abandoned kid into the house, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to leave a little boy out on the streets in the cold.
He looked down at Micah and offered him a genuine smile, something he rarely managed anymore. He would do what he could to help Micah, even if that meant taking care of him until he could find a safe place for him to go.
