Falling For A Murderer (BoyxBoy)

Park Life

As I walked downstairs that morning to get my breakfast, I began thinking about what to do with Sam and this 'situation'. I felt bad for him, I really did, and that made me want to help. Sure, he killed his dad, but I mean he's been through hell and back, plus his dad was a complete -

"Lil' bro!" Damon calls as I walk into the kitchen. He leans against the side, a mug of black coffee in his hand. "Where were you last night? Some girls place, eh?" He nodded.

"No. I couldn't sleep and went for a walk."

"At 4am?"

"No, I left at midnight. But uh, I met someone." I stammer.

"Who are they? Or do you not know? Hump 'em and dump 'em kinda thing, yeah?" He asks, a quizzical look on his face.

"What? No. That's just weird. It was a kid in my year. He was in some trouble and I ended up going to his house." I say, technically not lying. Damon's mouth is wide open and he has a hand on his heart sarcastically.

"My little brother is gay?" He gasps, fake surprised, although I can tell there is a genuine question in there.

"Damon, for fucks sake. I didn't have sex last night." I shout. "Jesus," I huff. "I know you're not getting any but you don't need to inquire about my... Exploits." I say, choosing my words carefully. "Don't expect to see me at school today either. I'm gonna stay at home and sleep. I'm too tired."

"I bet you are," Damon says winking, hinting at something. I roll my eyes and grab the carton of juice from the fridge, taking a few gulps of it, before returning it to its cold home. I run back upstairs and get a bag ready. I throw in some spare food from the kitchen before I head out on my scooter, thankful for the independence it gives me.

It's not long before I arrive at Sam's house. In the daylight, I see the unkept front garden in more detail. The grass hasn't been cut in a long time, and the flower beds are full of weeds. The fence around it is broken in a couple places and could do with some more wood stain; not to mention the gate hanging off a single hinge. The small roof over the front door hasn't had its tiles replaced - ever - judging by the looks of it, and a couple had fallen off and smashed, but not cleared up by the abusive owner.

I walk the small pathway up to the front door, jangling the key in my pocket. I don't expect Sam to be up yet, and let myself in, locking the door behind me. I walk straight through to the kitchen and place my bag on the counter, however, I forget the knife is there and it falls off. I go to catch it, but my left hand is clumsy and the blade slices through my palm.

"Ow shit! Fucking bollocks! God damn it!" I scream in pain. The cut is deep and blood is quickly exiting the wound. The knife clatters loudly on the ground, and I wait for it to stop before picking it up. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" I mumble, picking it up and throwing it on the table. I run to the tap and turn it on, letting the cold water wash the wound. The clean liquid stings, causing a new pain to form on my hand. "Ow! Jesus of ballsacks that's painful!" I cry.

"So much for getting some sleep." I hear Sam mutter, appearing behind me.

"Yeah, um, are there any bandages at all?" I ask, keeping an eye on my new wound.

"Yeah. I bought loads when Dad started getting serious with the abuse." I almost thought he was being sarcastic the way he said it, but he reached under the sink and bought a first aid box, full of bandages and plasters, as well as creams and wipes. He selects a bandage and some cotton pads, a wipe and some steristitches. He sits me at the table and treats my wound, wiping it before closing it with the steristitches, and pressing the cotton pad on before wrapping the bandage around it. I look at his expert work.