Gold And Coal (Ryden AU)

1.14 ◇ Pretty Little Psycho

"How are you?"

Cold. Distant. It was a routine question. There were no feelings whatsoever in his voice, no indication that he actually wanted to know how I was doing.

I just shrugged, wondering whether or not to confront him about his behaviour. I was pretty certain he would lie about it anyways.

So I decided to did what I did best, observe. I'd ask him about it when I was sure about the answer.

When I looked back up at Brendon, he was biting his lip nervously. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and turned his head away.

I shuffled around on the bed so I was in a sitting position, hoping he would take this as an indication that he should sit down.

He did.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still avoiding my gaze.

I cocked my head in confusion, having no clue as to why he was sorry; he had done nothing but help me in these past few days.

But upon thinking a little further, I put together all the small puzzle pieces and sighed.

"You're blaming yourself, aren't you? For what happened to me?"

Brendon's head shot up and he finally met my gaze.

"It was my fault. I came with you because I wanted to protect you. I shouldn't have let you go, I should have gone with you,... it's my fault..."

His eyes were getting wetter by the second and I awkwardly shuffled closer to him, not knowing how to deal with this situation.

"Hey, listen to me," I said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it slightly, "it wasn't your fault. I told you to stay there, remember? Besides, there was nothing you could have done."

He still didn't react and avoided my eyes, head hanging low, so I went on.

"If anything, you saved my life. If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be either."

That seemed to get through to him.

"I'm still sorry." This time he raised his head and gave me a small smile.

I returned it.

In hope to distract him, I grabbed the newspaper still lying next to the bed and threw it into his lap.

"What does it say?"

He stared at me, blinking several times.

Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slowly and a second later he started giggling, and yes, I mean giggling, like a child.

He brought his hands up to his face and hid behind them, and I really, really wanted to shove him off the bed at that moment.

But I reminded myself that it had been my intention to distract him from his thoughts, and even if that distraction was him laughing about my inability to read, I had clearly accomplished my goal.

"So, when you're done making fun of me, would you tell me what's in there?"

I tried making my voice sound irritated, but truth be told I couldn't. Seeing Brendon laugh like that sort of lifted my spirits and left my heart feeling incredibly light.

"Okay, let me read you a bedtime story," Brendon cleared his throat and wiped his eyes, picking up the paper.

"'Jack the Ripper' claims 5th victim - Woman brutally hacked to death. Scotland yard continues to investigate-"

He stopped, looking up at me, a lopsided grin on his face.

"So much for bedtime stories," he whispered, as if trying to make the atmosphere more sinister.

I shook my head and gestured for him to go on. A couple of weeks ago, I had heard some of my fellow workers talk about this maniac, and I was slightly interested in the story.

"Um... Whitechapel, London - Jack the Ripper was plying his trade again early this morning of the street crimes against humanity, Mary Jane Kelly of 13th Miller's Court, Spitalfields was found at about 10:45 AM by Thomas Bowyer, who had been sent by Mary Jane Kelly's landlord to collect the six weeks back rent due,.... Kelly's horribly mutilated lifeless corpse was lying on her bed."

He stopped reading and turned around the paper, holding it infront of my face.

"There, that's the sketch the detectives made."

I looked over the picture I had studied earlier, now knowing who he was supposed to resemble.

"I thought nobody's ever seen him," I said.

"Well, some have claimed to, and I guess the detectives just took their word for it. I don't think it's very reliable though."

I hummed in agreement, tearing my gaze away from the drawing.

"Are you scared of him?" Brendon asked, taking back the paper.

"No," I snorted, "why would I be? I don't live in Whitechapel, and I'm not a prostitute either."

"Good point."

He flipped through the paper, probably trying to find other remotely interesting articles.

"Joseph Assheton Fincher files a patent for the parlour game which he calls 'Tiddledy-Winks'." Sighing he closed the paper, "who the fuck cares?"

I watched him put the paper back on the table and raised an eyebrow as he got back up to fetch it again.

"You know what? I'm gonna teach you how to read," he stated with such determination that I almost believed him.

The shorter boy laid a pen and paper infront of me and sat down opposite of me.

He was actually serious about this.

"Okay, watch, now thiisss...." he paused and drew a letter on the paper, "is an a."

Brendon shoved it towards me and I looked at it with a blank expression.

"Here, try finding all the A's in the first sentence."

I felt like a five year old.

But I obeyed nonetheless, pointing at letters which resembled the one Brendon had drawn onto the paper.

Each time I did, he would nod approvingly and say words of encouragement.

He was having way too much fun doing this.

~ There's somethin' about you driving me mad
There's somethin' about you I've got to have
There's somethin' about you ~

OK, but because this is set in the 19th century I just HAD to include Jack the Ripper, because I'm totally interested in that kind of stuff. So yeah, now it's set a little later (1888, I was thinking like 1850 before) than I first intended but it still fits.