I Think I Love You [boyxboy]

Chapter Eighteen

 Jesse:

It was pretty late when I left Sky's. We'd all been to hang out and watch movies, and I left around midnight. 

As I cut through the park I heard a strange noise and froze. I was out alone in the middle of the night. I was small and slim and didn't have any weapons or a mobile phone on me. I was completely vulnerable and defenceless. Icy cold rain began to patter down and I considered bolting - but would that aggrivate the stranger that was the dark shape standing not fifteen feet ahead of me?

"H-hello?" it was pretty feeble and pathetic, but it was all I could think to say. 

"Jesse?" it was slurred and giggly, but I recognized that voice. 

Raven was swaying where he stood, clearly struggling to stay upright without any aid. He attempted a step foward, staggerd, and grabbed a bicycle railing for support. He laughed. 

"Fuck me, the whole park is spinning," he said, sitiing down on the ground. He looked up at me, unfocused. "How are you doing that?" 

"I'm not doing anything," I told him as I crouched down beside him. "Are you okay, Raven?" 

"I'm fucking fan-dabby-dozy, that's how I am," he said, his voice going weirdly high-pitched and giggly. 

"Raven you're being weird, are you drunk?" I asked. 

"Fucking hammered," he confirmed. "I've also snorted a fuckload of coke - it makes me feel awesome." 

"Should you be mixing alcohol and cocaine?" I asked cautiously. "That must be bad for you." 

"Why do you care?" he was angry all of a sudden. "You made it pretty clear how you feel about me today - what do you care what I do to my body?" 

"Don't be stupid, Raven," I said. "Of course I care - keep up like this and you'll kill yourself." 

He went quiet for a bit, taking a tiny swig from the vodka bottle in his hand. I swallowed. 

"O-Or is that the point?" I asked. 

"Maybe," he shrugged. Tears trickled down his cheeks. "I can't even go home, Jesse, Dad'll absolutely murder me for nicking his drink. I hate it there, Jess." 

"Right," I said. "Come on - you can stay at mine tonight."

I hauled him to his feet and supported him all the way back to my house. Dad and Lynette were away so there was nobody to ask questions about why Raven was in the state he was. He looked even worse in the light; his nose was red and running, he was shaking like a rattlesnake, his eyes were unfocesd and he had what looked like vomit on the front of his t-shirt. 

"Oh, Raven," it slipped out without me meaning it too. 

"Why am I wet?" he asked, looking confused. 

"It's raining, babe," I said. "Come on - let's get you warm and dry, eh?"

I took him up to the bathroom and helped him to blow his nose, making him smile for some reason. Then I swallowed. 

"Right," I said. "Come on - get your clothes off." 

"If you want me to get naked, you're gonna have to be more seductive than that," he giggled. I sighed. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," I said. "I want you to get naked so you can have a shower." 

"Oh," he said. I started the shower for him and took his shirt. 

"I'm gonna go wash this - think you can manage the shower by yourself?" I asked. 

"I-I think so," he nodded. I took his shirt down and stuck it in the washing machine. I also made him a cup of strong, sweet tea and a cheese and tomato toastie. I put them on a tray and took it too my room. I grabbed him some clean boxers and a pair of pyjama pants. 

He was sitting on the toilet seat wrapped in a towel when I went to the bathroom. He looked very pale and ill. He was shaking and his teeth were chattering. 

"Hi, Rae," I said, gently. "You okay?" He nodded and I touched his towel-clothed arms. "Feel better?" 

"Not really, no," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Here," I said, handing him the clothes I'd fetched for him. I turned while he clothed himself to protect his discretion, and then led him through to my bedroom. He sat on the bed and eyed the tray on the bedside table. 

"Go for it," I said. He grabbed the tray and devoured the toastie and drained the cup of tea in ten minutes flat. I couldn't help noticing how marred his bare chest was as he ate and drank; his skin was mottled and warped with scars and cuts and bruises. His back was worse; there were no bruises but he had several long, thin scars criss-crossed in almost a pattern all over his back. The scars on his chest and stomach were clumsy and I couldn't really tell what had inflicted them. But the ones on his back were very straight, very careful, very deliberate. They'd been put there on purpose, and they'd been put there with a knife. 

Involuntarily, I reached out and stroked my fingers over the scars. He shivered and met my eye, swallowing deeply. 

"How can you stay?" I asked. He shrugged. 

"Where would I go?" he replied. I didn't know what to say to him. So I put my arms around him, lay down, curled my body around his, and let him cry on me until we both fell asleep.