Notebook

Eight

Aiden felt awful as he walked by Nathan's side.

The boy didn't talk, so, of course, he was always quiet. But this was more than that.

He was so sad. So hurt and heartbroken that he didn't communicate.

Nathan stopped making eye contact when Aiden spoke; he didn't nod or shrug his shoulders; he did nothing. The firm, heroic, everyday mask had fallen, revealing the true feelings of Nathan Cole.

And he was distraught.

Aiden tried to ask questions about his family as the pair sat in the coffee shop, slowly finishing their drinks, but the older boy wouldn't answer.

Or maybe he couldn't because it was too difficult.

So, they both sat in silence until Aiden made a new plan. He wasn't one for spontaneous activities and preferred sticking to one solid idea, but Nathan needed comfort and sanctuary.

He needed somewhere to experience physical and emotional pain without being overwhelmed, abandoned, or pressured.

"Come on, let's go," Aiden said, standing and shrugging into his jacket and backpack. The older boy looked up in confusion; they hadn't discussed leaving, and he'd already told the younger boy he had nowhere to go, so where would he take him? "You are coming to my house."

Nathan wanted to protest. He tried to say no because he didn't want to be a weight on the younger boy and his family. He didn't like to invite himself into their personal space like he had Matt and Jago.

The white-haired boy could wait until the eldest boy could pick him up from the coffee shop; at least with Jago, he didn't feel so much of a drag because he was usually working.

But something said Aiden would not accept that. He had a defiant, persistent look, urging Nathan to get moving. So the older boy nodded reluctantly, relieved but apprehensive about invading the pink-haired boy's home.

The two boys strolled toward Aiden's new home, giving Nathan time to adjust to the fact he was about to meet the younger boy's parents.

It wouldn't be a big deal for the rest of the group, but for him, it was huge. Meeting a mother and father who loved their child was hard. It always reminded him of one of the worst days of his life.

The day he was abandoned.

Aiden unlocked the front door and stepped in, ushering the silent boy in with one hand and an encouraging smile. He cautiously followed and looked around.

The home was how Nathan imagined it. Warm and filled with pictures of the pink-haired boy sporting more neutral shades of light-caramel hair. He looked young in most of the photographs. Most were a few years old, and none seemed recent.

There were a few pictures of Evan and his family. The younger boy's mother beamed as she wrapped her arm around a more petite brunette woman.

Evan's mother was always smiling, pleased to see friends and family. She was kind to Nathan, forever giving him things and trying to care for him, even when he refused the generosity.

It was just a hallway, but it oozed love and comfort from every surface. There were wooden decorations with the word home, coats hanging on rails, and multiple pairs of shoes lined up along the soft sand-coloured wall.

The photographs were in matching frames, making Nathan jealous. He wanted that. He wanted a home with people who loved him, hung his picture on the wall and showed their son off.

At the sound of the door closing, Aiden's mother appeared, pulling off a pair of green gardening gloves, when she spotted the two young boys in the hallway.