Trash (boyxboy)

Five

Oscar's P.O.V

The sound of Julia humming mindlessly in the front of shop pulled me into consciousness, I winced as I felt an immediate pain in my left eye. As I reached out to touch it someone swiftly grabbed my wrist, confused I turned to see who was responsible. It was Monty. He greeted me with a sympathetic smile, releasing my arm as he sat up straight. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you, you've got quite the bruise. We left you to sleep but it's been awhile, do you want a drink?" He asked me softly, my body felt utterly drained to the point that I couldn't even speak, I simply nodded weakly as I shifted myself into a more upright position. Monty quickly got up and left to presumably ask Julia for a drink, once the door had shut behind him I pulled the damp towels and blankets that had been wrapped around me off. My body felt so cold.

Memories from the previous night flooded my brain as panic immediately set over me. I couldn't believe that I'd gotten attacked, anxiety washed over me as I began wondering how long I'd been passed out on the street and if Meatloaf was ok. All I could think was that those men had managed to get in my room and had taken or hurt him. At the thought of this I managed to pull myself off of the sofa and limp over to the small mirror hanging on the wall of the office. Forcing myself to look at my reflection I gasped, a ginormous bruise encircled my eye, it was practically black and hardly something you could miss. Before I could study the damage done to my face any further Julia walked in, a large mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a cheese toastie in the other. "Room service!" She said cheerfully, clearly trying to relieve some of the fairly obvious tension. I just smiled gratefully, my cheeks flushing pink once I realised I had nothing on except my boxers.

"Come sit sweetie, get this down you, you'll feel better I promise."

I limped over to the sofa, patting the space next to me as she came to sit down. Taking the mug I took a long sip, cherishing the warmth that rippled through my body. Julia's arm snaked around the back of my shoulder, pulling me into her side for a loving embrace. I'd always thought of her as the mum I never really had, I remember when she bought the space for the shop. It was three years ago, during the summer when people didn't particularly feel like standing in the sweltering heat to watch me preform. But then Julia came over and chucked some coins in my case, giving me a cheery smile before introducing herself and telling me about her plans to start her own business. As the months passed and our conversations became more frequent Julia learned of my situation and ever since she gifted me with cheaper or even free food, taught me how to cook and encourages her customers to come and watch me. If it wasn't for her I probably would have given up my dream.

"I'm so sorry about this Julia. I'm not even sure what happened last night, a bunch of guys just jumped me over the fact I have one of the 'nice' rooms in the theatre. Apparently they feel entitled to it. I'm so worried about Meatloaf, he must be so hungry." I sighed, shaking my head as my stress levels began to rise rapidly. Julia rubbed my shoulder comfortingly, shushing me as she stood up and wiped her hands down her trousers. "I'll tell you what. Why don't I go get Meatloaf and some of both of your things? You two can sleep in here for as long as you want. The sofa extends into a bed, don't laugh but I practically lived here when I was obsessing over creating my new recipes." She admitted to me, her cheeks turning slightly red as I sat and chuckled at the thought of her doing this.

Once I had explained to Julia how to get in and what things to grab she scuttled off and Monty scuttled in. He ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair whilst he just stood and studied me. "So...you live in the theatre?" He asked quietly.

My heart instantly dropped. Monty wasn't supposed to know about that, at least not yet I mean. I wanted him to get to know me for me, not by my situation. Usually people tend to form a pretty biased opinion about homeless people, like we're all drug addicts or we're all criminals and they immediately want to be as far away from you as possible. I felt the familiar wave of shame and embarrassment wash over me as I shrugged my shoulders, looking down towards my feet. It was clear to me from the beginning that Monty had money, a lot of money, and typically people of his class would never mix with the likes of me. I scolded myself mentally, knowing that I put myself in this situation in which I could hurt. After the first few months of staying on the street I vowed never to be become closer with anyone than I had to be. Eventually people get bored of showing sympathy, they feel their good deed of the week has been fulfilled and would rather flock back to their lavish lives rather than linger in our crippling reality.