TOUCH OF HOPE (MxM) (Completed)

4. Two freaks (revised)

It was him. The boy from the deserted road.

He was older now, but Dean would recognise him anywhere. He hadn't met many people in his life, let alone those who saved him after one of the worst episodes in memory.

At the time, it was been as though he were an outsider witnessing a frightened boy crying in the pouring rain, while another boy in a school uniform tried to help. But he still remembered. For the last three years, he played back that scene in his mind, just like many others. However, in that one, he had not been alone.

The man moved to close the door behind him, and Dean snapped back to the present.

He felt dizzy.

That would not work. It could not. It simply could not. Dean couldn't be around someone who had seen him in that state. As soon as he recognised Dean, it would be over.

The guest turned to Dean and... smiled.

- Hi, - he said. - I'm Blake.

Something in Dean's mind short-circuited. Hi? That was it? He had expected at least a look of shock, perhaps a clumsy excuse to leave.

Dean was at a loss for words.

A confused frown slowly reshaped Blake's expression, and he looked down at himself.

- What?- Blake pulled on his hoodie to scan it. - Do I have something on me?

- What?- Dean blabbered. He was gaping at Blake like a fool. - No, no.

Blake had not recognised him. There was not a speck of realisation in those dark eyes, just a very confused look.

Trying to regain some self-control, Dean adjusted himself on the chair. He had to get himself together.

- I'm sorry. - He cleared his throat and gestured towards the armchair near the bed. - Please, take a seat.

Blake glanced at it and then back at Dean. - Thanks.

Dean's gaze followed as Blake walked to the other side of the room. However, instead of taking the armchair, Blake sat on the edge of the bed, even lightly bouncing a few times as if trying it out. He looked back up and smiled at Dean.

- Cool bed. - He sounded impressed.

- Hum... Thank you?

He didn't know if that was the right response, but Blake was already busy looking around the room.

- This bedroom is huge, - Blake said. - At least twice as big as my dorm room. And I share it with my brother.

- Well, I...- Dean browsed the room. - I guess it's big.

- Your name is Dean, right?

He looked back at Blake.

- Yes, it is.

Pressure grew on his chest. His gaze fell to his lap, where he played with his fingers. It felt disingenuous to drag that out; he didn't want Blake to waste his time.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather some courage, and spoke, - Listen, - he began, - I appreciate you taking the time to come here, but I don't thi- - -

- Is that Big Ben?

His head shot back up to see Blake, now standing by the shelf, Big Ben model in hand. Dean jumped to his feet.

When had he even moved?

- It has your name on it. - Blake turned the model in his hands. - Did you make this?

A wave of heat covered his face. He should have hidden the models.

- That- I mean, those- - -

- They're so cool.