Choices (Narry) **EDITING**

Chapter Three: Lending a Hand

My head snapped to where the cry of help came from. It was dark - the street lamp didn't quite reach where I was looking - but I heard grunts and whimpers coming from the alley.

Making my way closer to the alley, I made out two figures kicking at a third who was crying out at their feet.

"Hey," I called, "What's going on here?"

They must've thought that I was a police officer because one of them spat at the poor victim and they proceeded to run down to the other end of the alley in an attempt to get away from me.

I thanked God that the pair didn't try to fight me because in my weakened state I wouldn't have been able to try and fight both of them. The person laying on the ground groaned and rolled onto their side. I rushed over to the figure and crouched down next to them, placing a hand on their shoulder. The person flinched and looked up at me scaredly.

Green.

I would've been able to tell those eyes even if we were standing fifty feet apart and it was raining.

"Hey mate, are you okay?" I asked, removing my hand after he had flinched. I didn't like seeing the scared look in his beautiful green eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the boy grunted. He tried to stand on his own, and I let him, but when he stumbled and tried to grab onto the wall I helped him stand.

"Thanks," he muttered, eyes clenched shut in pain.

"Let me help you out," I told him softly.

"What? No way man, I don't need your pity."

It was obvious that living on the streets had toughened him up tremendously, but he was no older than I and still as helpless too.

"Then don't think of it as a handout. Think of it as a friend helping another friend out."

I could tell that the boy still didn't want to trust me, but the pros outweighed the cons because he nodded his head.

We stumbled home in silence, the boy leaning on me heavily. I was freezing, so I couldn't imagine how this boy must be feeling, living on the streets. I wondered how he survived in the winter. Surely, the tattered jacket that he was wearing didn't provide very much warmth.

A wave of warm air blasted over us as we entered the door to my complex. No one was around, which I was thankful for, I didn't really want to explain why I smelled like vomit and why there was a homeless boy who looked dead was leaning on me.

The elevator ride up to my floor was filled with the ragged breathing of the boy, otherwise it was quiet. We reached my door and I scanned my fingerprint. The door opened and I pulled the boy inside. I kicked the door shut with my foot and dragged the boy to the bathroom and sat him down on the side of the tub.

He seemed like he could sit on his own, so I quickly pulled my coat off and rolled up my sleeves. I turned back to the boy.

"We're going to have to take your coat off," I told him.

The curly haired boy nodded and took his time taking his coat off, wincing every now and then. I went to the kitchen to get him an ice pack, and when I returned he was shirtless and poking at the bruises forming on his stomach. He was perfect. He had many tattoos, so many that I was sure I hadn't seen all of them. His tan skin was smooth and free of any markings besides the purplish spots appearing. I tore my eyes away and walked into the bathroom.

"This might help," I said, making him jump.

"Thanks," he replied as he brought it against his sore side.