You're A Steal- Dyle

Chapter Twenty

Auntie Cath isn't exactly sure where the message got confused. She thought she said 'no, Kyle. I won't take Charlie in.' But apparently Kyle heard, 'Yes, I'll give it a try', and somehow the teenager is now living with her, which she didn't really expect but apparently signed up for.

The boy is a lot quieter than she expected- then again, in all honesty, she did expect another Kyle, who couldn't shut up if his life depended on it. So, when Charlie, albeit Kyle's doppelganger, walked into the room trailing behind the doctor, she was surprised at how much he didn't speak. He seemed far too nervous to say anything.

Currently, they sit in her living room, sipping at cups of tea. Charlie can't help but feel out of place here- he just stares down at the cup, not daring to lift his eyes. He doesn't want to speak in fear that he may say something that would upset or anger her.

"Charlie, Love?" Aunt Cath finally says, breaking the stuffy silence of the room. She feels out of place in her own home- it has been many years since she had a teenager here with her. "Do you want any food?"

"No, thank you." The boy quietly replies, still not lifting his eyes. He doesn't even want to drink the tea- the rules at his parents home were very strange.

Aunt Cath frowns at Charlie, feeling slightly sorry for the boy. She had been told what had happened in order for him to be like this- the nightmares, the abuse, the cutting- but she had hoped he would open up to her a little bit more than he has been.

"You know, you can eat. And drink. This is your home, now." The woman says with a smile as Charlie's eyes gently lift up and look at her. "You can speak to me."

All Charlie can do is nod and give a quick thank you of appreciation. He knows things are going to be better- Kyle is coming over again tomorrow, his parents aren't here, and he isn't in that GGod damnedcentre anymore.

"So, shall I put some food on?" Aunt Cath asks, gently taking Charlie's hand. The boy smiles lightly.

"Yes, please."

"Kyle, Love. We need to talk," Dan tells Kyle as they lie in bed together, tangled in each other's arms. Kyle finds it funny how four words can spark so much anxiety within him. "I almost got fired yesterday. Because someone has been stealing from the shop..."

Kyle's eyes shoot open, worry overtaking his body. "Dan-"

"I know, Kyle. I know. and I know you can't help it, so I'm not angry. I just have to ask... Can you at least tell me next time? So I can put the change in the till?" The lanky teenager hates the fact he has to have this conversation, but he fears it will be the only way to keep himself and Kyle safe.

Kyle really doesn't like the fact the voice is yelling at him, telling him that he's going to get arrested. "I'm sorry, Dan..." He says, tears welling in his eyes. He wishes his life wasn't like this- he wishes he didn't have to steal to satisfy the voice in his head.

"It's okay. Seriously, don't worry about it. I don't mind, honestly." He says, kissing gently at the name of the boy's neck, and sliding his hands up his shirt. "I still love you. Always and forever."

"Always and forever." Kyle repeats, a dopey smile spreading across his face.

Charlie has never felt as though he's ever had a family more so than in this moment, sat across the table from his new guardian eating spaghetti. Most people would laugh and say this is common, but Charlie didn't like spending time with his parents. Well, he can no longer tell which way it was... Maybe they just didn't like spending time with him...

The two of them have had a polite, pleasant discussion over dinner, talking about everything and anything. Aunt Cath had told Charlie stories about Kyle when he was younger, and Charlie had spoken about a pet dog he had when he was five called Belle.

"Are you done?" Aunt Cath asks with a friendly smile as Charlie takes a drink of the juice in front of him. When he lived with his parents, his meals often consisted of bread, butter, and a glass of water. Some days he was allowed a cheese sandwhich, and he feels pathetic for saying it felt like a luxury. Then again, he feels bad for speaking bad about his parents. They weren't bad parents, they just didn't like Charlie as much as they should have done. often, they told him or showed him. He often landed hungry or bruised. Sometimes both.

Charlie nods, "Yeah, thank you. It was really nice. Do you want me to wash up?" He offers, following her into the kitchen. He can't help but feel like a lost puppy following her around.

They chat once more as they stand at the sink, Aunt Cath washing the pots and Charlie drying them. Everything seems to be going well until a plate slips out of Charlie's hands and shatters on the floor.

"I'm so sorry," he says, feeling the colour drain out of his face. He knows what is coming next, and he doesn't like it...

"Don't worry about it," Aunt Cath smiles and picks up the shards of pot on the floor, quickly putting them into the bin and thinking no more of it. They stand in silence for the next five minutes, Charlie's heart thumping in his chest.

"I'm really sorry..." He says again, casting his eyes to the ground. There's another pause before Charlie asks, in a very small, frightened voice, "Are you mad at me?"

Aunt Cath's heart shatters. He sounds so terrified that she doesn't even want to say no from the fear that he'll still get upset.

"Of course not, sweetheart. It was an accident, and accidents cannot be helped. We've cleaned it up, there's no need to worry."

The incident stays in her mind the entire night until Charlie finally says he's going to bed, though he does so very quietly, and Aunt Cath wouldn't even have known unless she was listening out for him (she wanted to be sure he wasn''t still upset).

Charlie disappears off into his room, which is painted in a navy blue and has a matching carpet. The door, skirting boards, and ceiling were once painted in a brilliant white that has now seen years of dust. It looks like the room was cleaned out of all it's old belongings, but never entered again. He strips into his boxers, giving an uneasy look at the colours on his legs, and covers them with a pair of tracksuit bottoms. He doesn't want Aunt Cath to see them.

When Aunt Clare enters his room later that night, tears in her eyes of not only the earlier events, but how she used to do this for her son, she can't help but walk over to his bed, running her hand through his thick, dark hair, so much like her sons. "Good night, Charlie," she says quietly, feeling the boy shift.

She didn't expect the very, very quiet, "Goodnight Mum," to follow.