A Home For Timmy (boyxboy)

Chapter 7: Laying the foundation.

Chapter 7

I couldn’t say what it was that woke me that night. Perhaps it was some deep instinctual feeling, or perhaps there had been a creaking of the floor boards from a light footfall…I couldn’t say. But my first and only thought when I did, was that Jason was running away with little Timmy in tow— again.

I knew I should have remained on the couch another night, knew it was ridiculous to trust him to stay after all the hell he’d given me to leave, but like a fool I’d given him the benefit of the doubt. I hopped out of bed, not bothering to pull on more than a pair of boxer-shorts before I skated down the hall and down the stairs as fast as my feet could take me.

The silence was deafening and by the time I reached the closed front door my heart was pounding in my chest. How far had they gotten? What if I was too late? The words entered my mind and the deep-rooted fear that slammed into me at the thought of them disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, stunned me.

When had I become so emotionally involved? Why did the thought of a life without them affect me so much when I’d only known them for a few short days?

 “Michael?”

I froze with my hand on the door knob when I heard my name, then spun to face Jason, who stood across the room in front of the bookshelf. His expression was one of surprise.

I released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding and took a step toward him.

“I thought—”

“That me and Timmy took off.” He surmised and I could only look on at him…my heart still pounding in my chest, as the adrenaline worked its way out of my system.

I took another step toward him. “What’re you doing up so late?”

He shrugged and turned his attention to the bookshelf. “Can’t sleep… I just wanted to look at the books you got.”

 I glanced at my well-stocked shelf. “Yeah? You like to read?”

Another shrug. “I used to read a lot when I was a kid…but I aint done that for years.”

I closed the distance between us and stood by his side inspecting the books I’d passed by every day since I’d moved into the place.

“What type of books do you like?”

Yet another shrug. “The ones that make me laugh I guess…those were my favorites…but I liked this book called Matilda too...it didn’t make me laugh, but I remember I liked it.” He explained with a frown.

I glanced down at his bare feet, then at the pajamas I’d bought him and I felt a strange warmth in my chest…like a mixture of nervousness and…and…something I didn’t want to think about.

When he tilted his head to get a better look at the books on the top shelf, his midnight-black curls fell just below his shoulders, and not for the first time, I wondered how it would feel to run my fingers through them.

Everything about him seemed so delicate. It was a wonder he survived out there in the harsh world—raising a kid on top of it all. I glanced down at his feet again, loving how comfortable he seemed in my home. Looking like a man who belonged here.

I cleared my throat. “Timmy asleep?”

He nodded. “Yeah…and those big raisins you got for him worked real good…he went right to the toilet when he was done eat’n’.”

“Good, they’re called prunes. I’m glad they worked.” I didn’t know what else to say after that. Finding myself speechless was definitely a rare occurrence and I found that I didn’t like the feeling all too well. I shifted from foot to foot.