Ichor || mxb

VI

Flickering his eyes open, the drug lord forthwith gagged, preliminary to being able to run to the bathroom. The contents of the night prior ended up spewed on the floor. With a groan, Ethan slumped back onto his bed, eyes hazy and unfocused. An utmost gnawing awareness hit each and every filament present in his body. Conclusively, he felt like utter shit.

The loud hurling alerted the boy who seemed to be in the land of nod. Snapping his eyes open, eyes with all the possible haste landing on the now groaning man in midst of the sheets. Tentatively anticipating menace forthcoming from the unknown in front of him, he sat stock-still in his former position, not a fiber of his body budging.

Sounds of displeasure filled up the room as the narc seemed to have forgotten the presence of the young boy in his chamber. Despairing eyes shrewd around for any one thing that could allay and blunt the throbbing that his brain had associated with near death. Leer finally landed on the horror-struck purine that seemed to be filling his dreams.

"Grayson isn't it?" Ethan all but groaned, eyes slightly twitching before discharging last night's mistakes onto the floor once again. The culprit, although impuissant at this point, still caused the younger boy's skin to crawl. The younger boy's gaze not daring to shift away from the supposed killer.

Though as a sickly panting sounded throughout the room, Grayson's heart couldn't help but clench. The man was visibly in pain, nobody deserves pain his pure conscience told him. Now although the narc was beyond frightening, he was yet to cause Grayson any harm, he wasn't the one who forced him into that van, neither was he the one who had touched him without consent. He might have misjudged him for all he knew.

With a slight tremble to his stance, the smaller boy's eyes flickered to the steel fridge that sat in the corner of the room, his feet soon tending to his line of vision. The older man's eyes escorting Grayson's small bijou frame, it was almost as if he'd reminisced the boy's image; a distant memory.

Grayson could feel the man's stare burning into him giving the rise to the idea of him going rigid right in his place. Albeit, the young boy's moral sense wouldn't grant him the pleasure of succumbing to the agitation present in him.

'The man are sick, he is feels badly. Grayson need to helping the man. Poor man.'

Finally ceasing his meek strides at the foot of the fridge, he unfastened the door searching for a bottle of water. Seizing the plastic, Grayson carefully eyed the various pills that sat on the ledge of the fridge.

The younger boy had never had a pill before, as he hadn't learned how to swallow them yet, but he does recall his momma and dada doing so when they had a tummy ache. Deeming the pills to be helpful, he was adhered trying to figure out which ones to choose. Pharmaceuticals of different sizes, colors and writings on them befogged that little brain of his.

Grabbing two of the simpler looking ones; white and spherical, the younger boy turned his attention to the sickly man. Eyes now shut tight in discomfort, pinched eyebrows, and hands draped over his stomach. The sight hit the little boy's heart with instant and bitter empathy.

The purine all but scuttled to the opposite side of where the narc was laid, arms extending wordlessly with the narcotics and half a bottle of water. Ethan's eyes squinted quizzically at the pills that sat in the palms of the boy. Was he that dumb he thought.

A still small voice inside him scolded him as the unknown boy seemed to have an honest wholesome look on his face. Arms still extended shaking them slightly, urging the man to accept his offering.

After a while, the drug dealer's facial expression didn't wipe off, making the dumbfounded boy place them on the bed beside him and make his way back to the couch placed at the far end of the room, with a frown etched on to his beautiful features.