Not Just A Fantasy (Angel)

Scared of Himself

     Gerard woke to the suns rays basking his face in the glow. He opened his eyes. He could see a tarp stretched across the ceiling. That was weird. His room didn't have that. But then he saw the boy, sleeping in the corner. And it all came back to him. Getting trapped in the classroom by Andy. The boy saving him. The gang in the alley. The white circle, with the red slash down the middle. The crack of knuckles in the silence. The leader, a smirk on his face. The knife glinting in the moonlight. How the boy had saved him. How the boy had almost killed someone. 

     Gerard wasn't sure how to feel. The boy had almost killed someone. But that was what made Gerard stay. He had almost done it. He hadn't actually. He had control. Besides, Gerard liked the boy. He was kind and sweet. Gerard rolled to his feet, wincing as his sore, bruised body protested, and limped toward the boy. He was curled up on the floor, which didn't look very comfortable. He felt bad for taking the bed. But the boy looked calm. The guarded, strong look he always had with him awake was replaced with a small smile. He looked young. 

     Gerard tore his gaze from the sleeping boy to look around again. The piles of food. The bed. This was where the boy lived. The boy was homeless. Gerard felt guilty that he was ungrateful for what he had. Sure, his parents beat him and mistreated him, but he had a family. A house. But this boy only had himself. But maybe that was for the best. Gerard knew how cruel, just how heartless people could be. It might be a lonely life, but it wasn't filled with pain that could be avoided. 

The boy stirred, jerking Gerard out of his thoughts. The boy opened his eyes, slowly, and when he saw Gerard bending over him, he jumped and scrambled back, desperately trying to get away, like an animal faced with the scyth. Gerard backed up, confused. What had made the boy scared of him? He didn't look that scary, did he? Maybe he had a bruise on his face. He didn't remember anyone hitting his face yesterday, but maybe he blacked out and missed it. 

     But the boy looked at his hands, and then scanned Gerard, like he was looking for something. He looked at his hands again, at Gerard, and then seemed to wilt in relief. To Gerard, it was like he was looking at him to check if he was hurt, but what was weird is that he was looking at his hands, like the answer was written there. Wait... Did he think that he might have hurt Gerard? Is that what he's scared of? That he might hurt me? 

     Gerard cleared his throat, and the boy looked at him with wide eyes, still crouched on the ground. "Are... Are you scared that you might have hurt me?" The boys eyes widdened, but then he nodded, gaze at the ground. It occurred to the bullied boy that the boy in front of him might be more scared of himself than Gerard was of him. 

     That brought a sense of relief to Gerard, because he now knew that the boy hasn't purposely done that- it had been pure instinct and adrenaline, and Gerard relaxed. He was still worried about the boy, though. How does one cure someone of being scared of themself? Time, he guessed. Only time. So Gerard, turned to the pile of food, and seeing a loaf of bread, he picked up, turning to the boy, who had stood up, no longer crouched, but was still wary. 

     "Can I have this?" He asked the boy, who nodded. Gerard sat cross-legged on the ground and patted the floor next to him. 

     "Come sit." 

     The boy looked at his hands again and shook his head vigorously. 

     Gerard pointed at the floor next to him. "Sit." 

     The boy sat. Pleased, Gerard broke the bread in the middle and offered the larger half to the boy. The boy shook his head, and instead took the smaller half, pointing at the larger half, and then at Gerard, who smiled in thanks, remembering he hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. 

     "Thanks." The boy nodded, already chewing the bread. Gerard bit into the bread, too, and for a minute, they sat there peacefully, eating, but soon the boy finished and retreated to his corner again, much to the disappointment of Gerard. 

*     *     *

     Frank didn't trust himself with the boy. He knew, that although that had been the first time that kind of thing had happened to him, he knew that it might come again. He didnt think he could live with himself if he knew that he had hurt Gerard, who had already been hurt enough for ten lifetimes. Frank was supposed to help Gerard, and he would continue to- just from a distance. That was safe. Ad that was all Frank needed, to be close to the boy. But he couldn't help that, when he ran away from him right after waking up, he couldn't help wanting to be closer instead. 

     He didn't miss the hurt expression on Gerard's face every time he retreated from him to the corner. And it hurt him to hurt Gerard. But it was better than hurting him physically. Frank was sure of that, and so he kept his distance. 

     But he wanted to show Gerard something. He wanted to let him in on a part of his life, like Gerard had, whether it had been intentional or by accident. So he picked himself off the ground, dusting himself off, and inched toward Gerard, who was sitting too, lost in his thoughts, and poked him on the shoulder before jumping back to a safe distance. 

     The boy smiled, seemingly happy that Frank had approached him, and Frank's heart skipped a beat. "Yes?" 

     He beckoned the boy, pointing toward the bucket in his hand, and then at the bucket he had that was filled with blueberries. Realization dawned on the boy, and he smiled a huge smile, like a little kid with an ice-cream cone. 

     "You want to pick blueberries?" Frank nodded, and the boy kept smiling and stood up. "Really?" Frank nodded again. "Yay!" Gerard squealed, and the pleased Frank led the way out of the shop, the excited boy right behind him.