The Trapeze Swinger

1.9

"I love you Lou. I'm sorry I didn't do a better job of looking out for you," I told him, feeling his scrawny body begin to shake with suppressed sobs as he held me tighter.

"You never have to be sorry, Slo," Lou whispered, voice breaking as we pulled apart and locked eyes. Grey on exhausted grey, both shiny with unshed tears of regret and disappointment and the brokenness of loving someone who was too far gone to change.

In one last offer of regretful farewell I held out the Daffy Duck toy to him, and with the ghost-like smile of his old self he took it, hugging it to his chest.

"The door's always open for you," He said, eyes lighting up with the familiar mischievous twinkle that I had missed so much as he added with a smirk, "And you can be sure that when you return this radgey daft duck is gonna be waitin' somewhere stupid for ya."

I left them both with a weak laugh dying to silence in my throat, tears finally falling down my face the second it was turned away. Behind me I heard Birdie call my name but I couldn't stop moving for fear that if I looked back, even for a second, my heart would break entirely. I had to leave, had to get out while I still had the strength to do so.
My feet felt like lead as I left my only family behind, the bag bouncing against my shoulder blade with every step. The last time I'd used the holdall had been to flee Whitehawk on the bus from Brighton, and it felt unnaturally light on my shoulder without Lou's things inside.

The morning sun was dim through the mist as I arrived at what was to be my new home, the blue haired boy sitting on the front steps smoking while he waited for me. Offering him a meek wave and an expression more grimace than smile, I ascended the stairs past him and entered the messy trailer. I could hear him follow me inside but I didn't turn around as I dumped the contents of my bag on the bed.

"Uhh, is the rest of it comin' in the mail or somefink?" 2D asked jokingly as he looked over my shoulder, and I elbowed him in the ribs before realising he had a point.

With my one of my two uniform shirts and my only pair of jeans sitting in a dirty crumpled heap in the boy's bathroom, my remaining items of clothing was pitiful; a few pairs of uninspiring briefs that I snatched out of 2D's view with a blush, some mismatched socks, the other crumpled Tusspot Fairgrounds shirt and an old ugly purple ringer tee I usually slept in. My toothbrush was a sad lonely object among the scattered things; everything else I had brought from Whitehawk was left with Lou, including our rescued Elvis vinyl and his own adidas windbreaker I had been wearing since our escape.

"I haven't exactly had the time or the money to go clothes shopping, Mr I'm-Bringing-Back-Teddy-Boy-Fashion-And-Own-More-T-Shirts-Than-All-Of-Eastbourne-Put-Together," I retorted with a pretend pout of sulkiness. 2D blinked, processing the new elongated title I had given him with a frown.

"That's not my name at all..."

"I know, Stu," I tried to intercept his train of thought, but he was distracted again and onto the next topic as soon as his confused pause was over.

"Op shopping! Tomorrow. I'll ask my dad ta give us the day off or somefink," 2D tripped over his words to excitedly get his new idea out, as if fully aware it most likely would disappear the second he thought of something else.

Wrinkling my nose I laughed as I repeated, "Op shopping? You wanna take me out for a makeover too?"

"Makeover? Definitely not," he smirked, picking up my faded purple ringer tee from the bed by it's pink collar and waving it at me as he continued, "You've clearly got the best style sense on the whole of the South coast."

The boy snickered as I snatched the shirt out of his hand with a "harrumph" noise, before nodding slowly, his idea actually very logical. I had been washing my clothes in a bucket of soapy water when they finally got too filthy, having to wear them damp the following day. It'd be good to have other options so they could at least dry out in between washing and wearing, as well as not having to smell like dirty laundry a lot of the time.