keep me cold

Finley

"hey, is Bill there?" a couple seconds silence. "hey Bill. yeah. sorry, but i can't come in today... yeah, something came up." i listen into his conversation in the hall as i sit on the couch, the soft, worn down cushions molding around my shaking limbs. "yeah i'll be in tomorrow. yeah. yeah. sorry again. okay. thank you so much. okay. bye." i hear him sigh deeply. a guilty feeling builds in my stomach. his footsteps retreat further into the flat and a couple seconds later - the time seems to rush by while also not moving at all - the footsteps slowly make their way back. he appears in the doorway. his broad shoulders and height blocking my view of the hall. he walks across the dark carpet towards me, his hands outstretched. he's handing me something. a blanket. nodding as a thank you, i take it and wrap it tightly around my shoulders, not realizing till now how cold i actually am. he walks back across the small living room and positions himself in the armchair opposite the couch. he settles into the seat and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. i watch as his eyes flit over my face and the skin showing from under the collar of my shirt. i can feel his gaze burn over the dark bruises i know are forming around my throat. his eyes reach mine and i look away hurriedly. "why won't you let me take you to a hospital?" his voice is low and husky, sending shivers down the length of my spine. i shrug and instantly regret the action, pain shoots through my back making me wince. i quickly try and wipe any sign of pain from my face but i know he's already seen it. "okay..." he says, readjusting in his chair, leaning forward more. "if you wont tell me that, then at least tell me what happened to you." i don't say a word, my eyes trained on my quivering hands that are clasped in my lap. "please?" its barely above a whisper and so soft that it warms my heart. i take a deep breath, finally making eye contact with him. 

"i got into a fight."

"with who?" he shoots back. i take another deep breath and run my fingers through my hair, the coarse hairs slipping though my fingers like straw. 

"my father." his expression softens and a look of pity forms in his light eyes. after a second of tense silence he gets up, i think he's about to walk out, leave me here, but he walks around the coffee table and sits beside me. he's sitting so close i can feel the heat radiating from his leg that lies just millimeters away from mine. my eyes go back to my hands as a shallow heat starts to rise in my cheeks. 

"listen," he says, drawing my attention back to him. "i know you don't know me, but i want you to know that you cant trust me. so, if you want, you can tell me whats going on?" his statement is more of a question and he sounds unsure of it. i think for a second. i don't have anything to loose i guess. i nod slowly.

"okay." 

...

i tell his everything. from the beginning. from where it all started. 

i tell him about the train. the whistling of the colossal vehicle mixing with my scream. 

i tell him about the funeral. the rows of people i knew didn't actually care.

i tell him about mine and dad's promise to each other. he would look after me as much as possible - i would look after him as much as possible. we would be there for each other. look how well that tuned out. 

i tell him about the way dad had slowly started to slip away. he became more distant. sometimes disappearing for days on end. 

i tell him about how i used to stay up and wait for him to get home, sometimes waiting all night if i had to, until one night i realized: he wouldn't do the same for me. why do i care so much about him?

i tell him about the fights at school. boys picking on me calling me 'mummy's boy' when i didn't want to take part in their ruthless games. 

i tell him about the teacher. how he saved me. gave me a place to go. a place i felt safe. 

i tell him about how all of that was ripped away from me when our house was taken away. 

i tell him about the stubbornness of my father to not spend any of the slight fortune mum had left behind. 

it all leads to present day. the fight this morning. 

by the time I'm finished talking its well past mid day. tears leak down my cheeks and i don't bother to try and hide them. there's now nothing i can hide from this guy. how odd, he knows everything about me and i don't even know his name. 

"i... i'm so..." he cant make it to the end of the sentence, his voice cracks and i look up from where my gaze was in my lap to see tears welling in his eyes. suddenly his arms around me and he's holding me close to his chest. i don't object. its been so long since i last was this close to someone. it feels nice. warm. i wrap my arms around his waist and let my tears wet his t-shirt. i feel him take a shaky breath and i know those tears are no longer just in his eyes. his hand travels to my head, holding me to him and starts to slowly stroke though my  hair. i bury my face in the soft fabric and we sit like that for god knows how long.

...

"what do you want?" he asks, taking the phone away from his ear to look down at me. it's dark outside now. we lie, pressed against one another on the doughy couch, one of my legs looping over his. i don't know how we got in this position but... here we are. I'm not complaining.

"umm..." i think for a second, my mind scanning through countless options. 

"quick quick quick!" he whispers, jokingly poking me in the ribs. giggling i push his hand away, turning my back on him in a fake strop. 

"ill have a margarita." i say over my shoulder, unable to stop myself grinning.

"boring!" he exclaims, sitting up abruptly and throwing himself back against the back of the couch. i sit up too. 

"i like it!" i cross my arms defensively. he shrugs, still grinning just as wide as me, and lifts the phone back to his ear. 

"yeah I'm still here. so that'll be one margarita pizza and..." his voice fades away into background noise as i just admire him. his grin is wide and reveals a shallow dimple in one of his cheeks. over his rosy cheeks and chin, short stubble sticks out giving him a rugged look. his dark hair falls carelessly over his eyes in thick clumps. one of them falls down onto his nose and is clearly tickling him from the way his nose keeps twitching uncomfortably. without thinking, i reach out and brush it out of his face, momentarily combing my fingers through his soft hair. his eyes flit to mine and a twinkle shines deep within them. i don't know if it's just me but i think his smile gets wider and his rosy cheeks get more rosy.

{author's note}

FINALLY SOME CUTE GAY SHIT! 

so there's another flashback chapter. don't worry, it'll be back to the present story in the next chapter. 

what do you think of Finley? (that's the guy's name if you hadn't figured that out.)

tell me if there's anything you want to happen in the story. 

if you liked this then vote and comment... i like to feel validated. 

have a nice day.