The Smell Of Spray Paint

Two.

[Trigger Warning // rape - will be marked if you want to skip.]

"You know, you never told me your name." The accented voice came from in front of me as we walked in together; since we left, the man who had offered to take me in hadn't stopped talking, though this was his first attempt that he had made to have me talk back to him.

"Oh..." We had been walking for five minutes now, all he had been talking about was how stupid I was to get into my situation and how much better he would do things, so the change of conversation was surprising, but nice. "Matthew..." ...uh oh. I cursed myself. Was it a good idea to reveal my real name to this stranger? There would be people looking for me in the future, and knowing my name might give this man a way to help them find me. All in all, I didn't want him knowing my name, but it was too late now...

He nodded in front of me and I took a few quick steps to catch up, "And you are an American?" He asked.

"Absolutely not!" I cried. I didn't really care what he thought my name was but if there was one thing that I would not be able to stand, it would be being mistaken, yet again, for an American. That had happened at least one hundred times in the past and I refused to let it happen again, "Canadian! I'm a Canadian!"

"Nah, I know nationalities! You look like an American!" He grinned.

"You can't say that! I'm from Canada!"

"You keep telling yourself that..." He suddenly turned and I bumped right into him, "We are here!"

I looked around but couldn't see anything. I looked up at the man who had led me here in confusion, but it didn't look like he had made a mistake.

The area that we were in was positively desolate. There was barely anyone around and the streetlights flickered. It was totally run down.

"Nice right?" He laughed and crossed over the road, he wasn't even joking, "Come on, do not get left behind!" He was disappearing into an alleyway.

I felt uneasy, I looked around. There was no one else around apart from the two of us. But I had come here knowing there would be dangers, and there seemed to be nowhere else for me to go.

I followed him.

"You're... Homeless?"

I looked around. After crossing over the road, I had found myself here. A dark, crumbling old store unit. There lay a stained mattress in the middle of the floor and a bag of what looked like other clothes and more cans of spray paint. There was a huge hole in the roof that dripped water onto the stone floor and I was aware of the rats that scampered around behind me and around my feet.

I was kinda surprised. The man who had approached me hadn't seemed homeless at all. He was clean, shaven, and in a good shape. But as he jumped forward and landed on his chest on the mattress, there was a doubt in my mind that this was where he lived. Though when I first stepped in here I was convinced that this was a joke.

"I am not homeless! This is my home! I did it up all myself! Pretty awesome, right?" He kicked off his shoes.

"But this is where you live... You live on the streets..." I looked up at the hole in the ceiling, it stretched up several stories.

"Sure, sure," He shrugged and pulled off his shirt, I looked away as he tossed it aside and grabbed a grubby blanket, but from what I could see he was lean... He had a nice body, "But I am not a gross bum! I wash and shave every two days in public bathrooms and I can use the laundromat down town to wash my clothes... It is great!"

I didn't know what to say, he was smiling widely and watching me... I met his eyes and he gave me expecting look, so I just showed him a small smile and said, "Thank you for letting me stay here then..."