Word Count: 950
You got into a fist fight. Again.
You were kicked out of the house. Again.
You were defending your brother, Gavin. He was only eight years old, ten years younger than you were. He had mild autism, and the kids in his class loved to pick on him. You couldn't stand people teasing him for something he couldn't help. His school consisted of kids from grades 2 through 8 (or children aged about 7 through 14). One 14-year-old boy was hassling Gavin outside of school, going as far as calling him names and pushing him. You lost it when he touched Gavin, and so you punched him. You didn't even feel bad about it.
The kid wasn't the kind to go out without a fight, so you had some marks on your face when you got home. You're parents were furious that you hit a "child," and you didn't even get to tell them that you were defending Gavin. They already pushed you out of the door. You grunted and sighed heavily. You knew that if you were kicked out, it was for the entire day, and you couldn't believe they'd do that. It was already getting dark outside. You tried calling your friend, who lived sort of nearby, but she didn't answer. You started walking aimlessly on the side of the road. You looked up from your shoes a long while later to see you were in the middle of nowhere. For miles, the only things you could see were the road, road signs, and trees. You sat beside a tree, leaning back onto it and spacing out.
It was surprisingly comfortable, and you were about to drift off. You didn't, though. You were scared of the dark. Yes, I know, what a stupid thing to be scared of. But it's what you feared nonetheless. It was really dark out now, and there were almost no lampposts to illuminate the road. You hugged your knees to your chest and stared up at the tree's leaves. You felt something on your shoulder.
You jumped and scrambled away from the touch. "Hey, sorry," said an Irish boy. Your eyes strained to see his face through the darkness. He sat down on the grass and your muscles relaxed.
"Who're you?" you asked him.
He stared at a bruise on your face before mumbling, "Sean. What's your name?" As he leaned forward to pull his flat cap over your hair, you could see he had grey mixed in with his brown hair. How old is this guy, you wondered. "(y/n). . . If you don't mind me asking," You took his grey hat off your head and held it in your hands. "How old are you?"
He snatched his hat, pulling it onto his head. "Nineteen," he frowned.
"Can I see your hair again?" you asked. It didn't bother you that he had grey hair; it only interested you. You had a cousin whose hair went all grey when he was sixteen, and you never knew why. "What," his voice got high-pitched, "no!" You pulled off the hat anyway. "Hey!" He reached for his hat, coming closer to your face as your stared at his hair.
"That actually looks cool on a young person," you said. He stopped, a perplexed look on his face. "Really, it doesn't look bad," you touched his hair and he smiled. You gave him his hat, and he didn't put it back on.
"So. . . Why are you out here so late? It's dangerous," Sean said, again looking at your bruises.
"I got in a fight. Parents kicked me out for tonight, and I couldn't find anywhere to crash," you replied. Sean had a suggestion.
"I know I'm a stranger and all, but my house is right around the corner." Your eyes met his, and for some reason you trusted him. You walked up to two cabins, following Sean into the smaller one. "If it makes you feel any safer, my parents live there," he said, pointing to the bigger house. You cracked a smile. He opened the door. "So you can sleep on my bed," he grabbed a pillow off of the bed and dropped it on the floor. "I can sleep down here for a night." He sat down beside the pillow. You instantly refused, insisting that you were the freeloader and that you could sleep on the floor for tonight. You argued for a long time before Sean just laid on the floor. You grunted and got in his bed, saying under your breath, "stubborn ass." But at least the bed smelled nice.
After about ten minutes of laying in the darkness, staring at the wall, you felt the bed shift. You turned over to face Sean, who was crawling under the covers. He saw that you noticed him. "The floor is fuckin' cold," he muttered. You smirked and turned back over. You felt Sean move occasionally in his sleep, until you drifted off. You were shocked when you woke up to an arm draped over you. You knew Sean was moving in his sleep, and you had friends that did the same thing, but you didn't expect this. You caused him to wake up, startling himself at the situation. He sat up abruptly. He looked down and sighed in relief when he saw that you both still had your clothes on. "Sorry," his voice was deeper than last night, and raspy. "I move around when I'm asleep. . . But I'm kind of glad I do now," he smirked at you, causing you to blush.
(A/N) This kinda turned into a Sean's hair imagine for a minute sorry XP