Works in Progress

Paper Love ~ Prologue

Friday 8th March, 2019

Rocco

Huddled into the turned up collar of the jacket he'd borrowed, Rocco stepped out of the alleyway onto the pavement with a nod to Glover. His ex-foster brother stood outside the entrance to the club, as promised, but he was also an hour late.

Rocco didn't say anything about that, because he was lucky Glover had shown up at all. He'd used his last pound to make the call, relieved that the phone in the pub across the street had accepted the old coin. He'd half expected Glover to say he was busy, an excuse he mostly used whenever his parents wanted to visit, but one that he'd used with Rocco over the last six months.

The street was empty just after midnight, with most of the club goers already inside, so he crossed the street without looking and tried to hide his glare. Glover was looking around as if he didn't want to be there. Rocco understood that; he didn't want to be there either. He forced a friendly smile and shuffled his feet as he made his way over, reminding himself that he was about to ask a huge favour.

This was his last chance at a safe place to sleep tonight and he desperately needed what Glover had. But, for some reason, he didn't look too happy about handing it over.

"I've got what you asked for," Glover said, a frown pulling his bushy brows over his brown eyes and obscuring any indication of feeling he could have deciphered.

It irritated Rocco that he couldn't hear his voice and know what the change of tones or sounds might mean. But he focused on the hesitant way Glover pulled his pale right hand out of his jacket pocket, to hand over an envelope. Rocco reached out to take it, unsurprised when Glover didn't let go.

"Are you sure you're going to go through with this? I don't like it," he said, as if he had another choice.

He didn't bother replying with more than a frown; he was barely capable of reading lips and Glover didn't know sign language, so what exactly was the point in attempting a conversation. He only knew as much as he had already because he was concentrating so hard and he knew Glover well enough to put the pieces together, even if he didn't catch every word.

The ignorant ass knew that Rocco couldn't speak and wouldn't know if he actually made sounds, beyond a feeling of vibration in his throat, which he'd never been aware of before. Trying to argue with him, especially tonight, was pointless.

Besides, Glover knew what he was facing and the likelihood of finding a safe place to sleep tonight. It wasn't as if he had a home to go to. Rocco was out of options and perhaps Glover could finally see it, because he reluctantly let go of the envelope, gazing at him with sad green eyes that shone in the neon club lights.

It took a moment to huff and blow a strand of hair out of his eye as he dipped his head to check the envelope. It wasn't sealed, so he pulled out the papers inside, knowing they were his last hope. He had tried shelters, YMCAs, youth hostels and abandoned buildings that were used as squats. He had tried just about everything to get by, but this was the lowest he'd stooped and he could understand Glover not being happy about it. He wasn't happy either. There was no money, no food and no safe place that he hadn't already burnt out. He was at his wits end and this was his last chance to be safe and survive another day.

Well, the last chance beyond doing what some of the boys he knew did. Rocco couldn't even bear the thought of selling himself, so actually taking up their offer to try it out, even just once, was out of the question. He'd probably throw up from fear and nerves.

No. Living rough, on the streets, had never been a viable option. Not for him. He didn't do well in the cold. Sure, he could go a long time without eating, but the grubby, unclean feeling of not being able to wash, clean and keep himself safe had grated after just a few weeks. He was lucky to have survived as long as he had.