The Love Code (BoyxBoy)

Running From The Runway

For two years I was homeless. I didn't have anywhere to go, I didn't have anyone anymore. My parents hadn't tried to find me as far as I knew, and I had no hope for it. I slept in abandoned houses, shelters maybe if I could find any that didn't ask questions.

But when things were really bad I had no choice but to sleep under bridges and at parks, or secluded bus benches. Every day was a day of survival and the only thing that kept me going was that the person I loved would never have to do what I was doing. He'd never be disowned and left to die.

He deserved more than that.

He--

He...

Steven.

The years haven't done anything to ease my teen-hood tragedy. To ease or take away the intensifying love that I have for this man I haven't seen in seven years. Love is a funny thing. Love is a painful thing.

Anyway, the second year I ran into my way out. No, I mean I literally ran into my way out of my struggle. I was running away from this volunteer at a shelter I was trying to get into. They usually just ask for names. And I always gave fake names.

But seeing how young I was they started asking a bit more than I wanted to tell. I knew what was next. They'd call CPS and I'd end up back at my house. My...I had no home anymore. I had no father, I had no mother, and I had no choice but to leave my brother behind.

When the volunteer started getting too invasive I simply turned around and walked away but then of course they had to chase me. I shook them but in the midst of my constant need to check behind me, I wasn't watching were I was running and I ran into someone which got me planted right on my ass.

My feet were hitting the ground rapidly. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure there was no longer anyone behind me. But in the process of that I forgot that I had to watch my front as well and ending up hitting someone. The collision knocked me to the ground.

''Fuck,'' I groaned, my ass landed bruisingly on the hard ground. The person, a man, turned around and offered me his hand.

''Sorry kid, you should really watch where you're going.'' He said, still offering me his hand for help from the ground. I looked at him.

I had learned to look at people. To really look at them and watch them because you never know what people are capable of. I've been in a few situations where I trusted or relied on the wrong person and I either ended up empty handed or without a meal for the day.

He seemed okay. Although looks can be deceiving. He had a kind face, with green eyes and low cut blonde hair. He was dressed business casual.

I took his hand. He pulled me up from the ground.

''Sorry,'' I apologized, before preceding to walk away.

''Aye, kid!'' I heard him call out a minute later. I turned around and he caught up with me since I made no move to walk back to him. He had a flyer in his hand and he handed it to me. I looked at the big bold letters on the front.

Stark Modeling Agency

''What's this suppose to be?'' I asked, looking up into his examining green eyes.

''An offer,'' He said simply. ''Be at the Yertz Hotel conference room by nine A.M. tomorrow morning.''

I looked back down at the paper. What could I lose?

At that time I didn't know that the man in front me that day was Mr. Javier Stark himself, the most famous designer turned model agent mogul to ever walk the earth.