Okay, I have a confession to make. When I saw that this story got 23 votes, my first reaction was 'woah....' my second 'OMG NO, STRESS' but really, thank you so much for all that commented, voted, read or added this to their library. It really means a lot to me. I'm so sorry but I'm still horrible at using wattpad, so I haven't managed to thank you all personally for the votes and everything.
Oh yeah, I know its evil of me, but I'll only be updating one chapter every two weeks, so I'm sorry if there's anyone who wants fast updates. ><
And the truth is, romance wouldn't be the only main point of this story and being an amateur writer here, it would be much appreciated if you would drop a comment after reading!
~~~
Jerron opened his mouth and was about to speak – a statement or a question, he didn’t know – when the door of the nightclub opened once more. The group he had seen dancing just moments before exited the club, laughing loudly.
At their voices, the strange boy suddenly stopped struggling and gripped his arm. Wincing, Jerron looked back down at him to see him trying to hide behind him.
“Hey, where’s the kid from before?”
“Must have run off.” A laugh. “Why would he hang out here after earlier?”
The grip tightened and the boy shivered. From the cold or fear, Jerron didn’t know.
“How can he run off when he’s probably sore as hell?”
Jerron stilled, staring at the boy whose hand was still firm in his grasp. Teenagers these days are just... He clicked his tongue distastefully. Making sure the group didn’t hear him, he then spoke, “hey, can you walk?”
The boy glanced up helplessly at him, eyes wide with fear and shock. He gave a rigid shake in reply, unsure of what Jerron meant.
With a sigh, the older man leaned down, placing a hand behind his knees and another on his back before lifting him bridal style. He could feel the boy freeze with shock before small hands gripped the front of his shirt to support himself.
Making sure he balanced the small frame well enough, Jerron started walking out of the alleyway, towards the group. The boy turned his head into the shirt, heart pounding and body tense. A few teenagers turned their heads at Jerron’s approach and widened their eyes at the small frame he carried. Nudging each other, the noisy group suddenly fell silent and stared at the two. Jerron nodded his head politely at them as he passed them.
“Wait…” A blonde-haired teenager spoke, a hand stretching out.
Jerron stopped and lifted an eyebrow, ignoring the painful grip the boy had on his shirt. “Yes?”
The teenager met the older man’s mildly curious gaze, at the expensive suit he wore and then at the dirty brown-clothed boy he carried. “Ah… no…”
Jerron nodded his head once more before picking up his steps and walked out of the alleyway under the shocked stares of the group. He could faintly hear the murmurs erupting from the group as he walked.
When they are finally out of the alleyway and into the city, the grip the boy had on his shirt loosened. “Thank you,” he said shortly, almost begrudgingly.
Jerron looked down in surprise. “Is this the right way to treat someone who just saved you?”
The boy turned his head away. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Staring at the boy, Jerron shook his head in disbelief. People in this world were ungrateful brats, really.
After a few seconds of walking, the ungrateful boy spoke up again. “You can put me down now.”
“You mean you can walk now?”
Biting his lip, the boy didn’t reply.
“If you can’t, then I wouldn’t.”
“But where are you bringing me then?” He sounded confused, bewildered.
“Did you even have to ask? My home, of course.”
“Your… home? Why?” Then a realization came over him and he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me, you’re going to… Like that blonde…”
Jerron gave him a long considering glance before continuing to walk.
“If that’s what you want,” he bit out, “forget it!”
Sighing, he wondered why he had picked this brat up at all. “Calm down, I’m not going to do anything. Surely, you would want to sleep in a proper house than at that street, wouldn’t you?”
“…” Traces of doubt overtook his features.
“It’s alright. I won’t do a thing,” he repeated, looking deeply at the boy. “After that ordeal, you must feel tired, go to sleep.”
“I...”
“Sleep.”
After a few seconds of silence, the boy relented, closing his eyes.
Jerron wasn’t sure, but he had thought he heard a soft ‘thank you’. He looked down at the boy sleeping in his arms.
Nah, it couldn’t be.
~~~
He woke up to find a thick red blanket wrapped around his small frame and small rays of warm morning light steeping through unfamiliar curtains that were drawn shut. Shooting upright into a sitting position, a sharp pain shot through the area between his legs. He winced and stopped moving, squeezing his eyes shut.
It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt. Not at all, yep. He chanted in his head.
When the pain finally subsided, he opened his eyes to take in what seemed to be a living room. The walls were painted a dark brown. A large TV screen was mounted onto one of the walls. A glass coffee table sat between the screen and the velvet red couch he was sitting on.
Where… Where was he?
He heard a faint ‘clink’ and turned to see a man leaning against the far end of a wall, sipping from a cup he held in his hands. He stared dumbly at the man for a moment before last night’s memory came back to him with sudden sharp clarity.
Black—no, dark brown hair. A pair of black eyes. A strong chin.
Oh.
He stared at the older man. The older man returned the stare, taking another sip. He could smell the scent of the caffeine. He then remembered that he hadn’t had a decent meal in what seemed to be ages.
His stomach suddenly rumbled and growled.
For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw the older man’s lips curl up into a smile before the cup obscured his view. Feeling the tips of his ears turning pink, he tried to look as dignified as possible, glaring daggers at the older man. Strangely enough, the glare only served to make him laugh.
The older man broke off the gaze and put the cup down on the dining table before disappearing into the kitchen. He came out a few seconds later, with a new cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches. Tensing up as he realized that the older man was approaching him, he watched him put the plate and cup down onto the table in front of him.
His mouth was watering. The scent of food was tempting.
“Here.”
He glanced suspiciously at the food and tried to resist grabbing it right then.
“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
He snapped his gaze back at the older man. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
The owner raised an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“Rich people don’t just pick up homeless rude kids off the streets for no reason.”
“Oh? You’re aware that you’re a rude kid then?”
He flinched internally at that before hissing. “That’s not what I’m asking. What do you want?”
“Is it so wrong for someone to hope that someone could get a good sleep for one night?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.
“No one cares for another in this world.”
The owner shrugged and glanced at the clock. “If you say so.”
“You haven’t answered my question! What do you want?”
A hint of annoyance overtook the older man’s features. “Look, if you don’t appreciate it, that’s fine by me. The front door is right there. You can leave anytime you want.”
Turning around suddenly, the older man walked to the aforementioned door. “If you want to go, you better leave when I’m out.”
The front door slammed shut and the boy was left in the now empty house with a plate of steaming hot food in front of him. He stared at it, hands clenched and heart conflicted before his instincts won over. Pushing all thoughts away, he went at the food like a ruthless predator.
~~~
Greeting his colleagues as he passed them, they bowed back, the fake smile rigid on their faces. The society was like this. Everyone put on a mask in the morning and by the time the sky turned dark, they’d be dropped to reveal their dark side. Jerron didn’t really care, being someone who put up a disguise himself.
He pushed open the door to where the coffee-maker was and distinctly heard two voices talking.
“I’m saying that he deserves it! Acting all high and mighty,” the first voice spat. “Who does he think he is anyway?”
The second voice which he recognized as his secretary was more hesitant. “He does have a high social status… And he’s rich, isn’t it okay?”
“But that doesn’t mean that—”
“Well hello ladies,” he cut in and the two murmured a ‘good morning’. He arched an eyebrow at the awkward silence that ensued as they stared at him. “Why so quiet? Were you two talking behind my back?”
“No!” The owner of the first voice widened her blue eyes in shock and fear. Yes, strangely, this one was afraid of him. (Well, actually, a lot of his colleagues were. He didn’t know the reason. He had always been civil to them.)
His secretary then added quietly, “we were just talking about the latest victim of the serial killer, Mr. Litt. You know, Johan Avalon.”
Oh, not that again. “Oh?” He pretended to be interested and walked over to the coffee-maker. It was already full with fresh coffee, like always.
“He was found dead three days ago in his mansion and all the money was gone.”
“So the murderer’s just looking for money again?” he asked dispassionately, pouring coffee into his cup.
“The police said it’s safe to assume that. They’re checking out all the poor and homeless people for the suspect now.” Blue eyes stared frantically between the two conversing.
“The homeless people?” Jerron echoed and suddenly wondered off to the strange boy he had picked up last night.
“Yes, but I think—”
Her colleague suddenly covered her mouth, cutting off her words and forced a smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Litt. Lucia here just loves these sorts of things and she just ranted off…”
“Oh, that’s perfectly fine!” He flashed a smile of his own. For some reason, she gulped and grabbed her friend’s arm before excusing themselves out hurriedly.
Now, that was what he meant by people having a strange fear of him. All he did was smile and they all run away.
He could hear her hissing outside the door. “Lucia, how could you talk to him so casually? Do you want to lose your job?” He frowned. Did he really seem like the type to issue a dismissal letter for something like this? He shook his head and picked up his cup and made his way to his office.
Sitting down on his seat, he glanced at the clock. A thought suddenly occurred to him. Would the house be empty when he came home? Or would the boy still be there?
He hadn’t known why he had picked him up from the streets. Even a homeless child could be capable of killing another. It wasn’t something rare or new and it wasn’t like he had forgotten that either. Why did he take this risk?
He recalled the fear in the colleagues’ eyes. Could it be because the boy hadn’t looked at all afraid of him?
But then again, Eva had never been scared of him and neither did Lucia. He didn’t get any strange urges to pick them up…
He spent a moment pondering over that and rid himself of the horrible image of his secretary and the popular hostess being in his house.
Oh well, whatever the reason was, he was looking forward to going home that day.
~~~
The house was dark when he opened his front door. Did the boy leave after all? He felt a strange sense of disappointment. He’d expect the boy to treat someone who allowed him to stay with more gratitude. But then again, from how the boy behaved the night before, it wasn’t exactly surprising. Shrugging the feeling off, he closed the door behind him, dropping the bag of groceries and his workbag onto the nearby table before sitting down to take off his shoes.
He had bought too much for one this time. It’d probably last for two weeks at the very least.
Getting up, he grabbed the bag of groceries and started for the kitchen when his eye caught something. Stopped, he turned and squinted. In the living room, he could faintly make out an outline of a… lump on his couch.
Frowning, he turned on a switch. At the flicker of the light, the ‘lump’ suddenly jerked up. Jerron blinked at the messy-haired boy wrapped in a piece of red blanket staring at him.
Well… It seemed that the boy didn’t leave after all.
Under the bright light now, Jerron could see the richness of the chocolate brown eyes staring at him and he stared back. For some reason, the boy looked different in the light. His skin was unnaturally white even with the dirt still covering his face – was it possible to have skin so pale with the sun so bright here? – and his hair a light brown that was almost blonde.
He shook his head away of the thoughts before breaking the silence. “So I see you’re still here.”
The boy grabbed the blanket more tightly around him and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Ungrateful brat really, this kid was. “I suppose I didn't.”
He glanced around the room, noticing other than the bread crumbles on the plate on the coffee table, everything seemed to be untouched from when he had left in the morning. Did the boy stay on the couch the whole day?
“Hey, what’s your name?”
The boy stared at him distrustfully.
“… If you’re going to stay, it’s normal for me to know your name. I’m Jerron.”
The boy turned his head away and said stiffly, “Ezreal.”
A short silence followed.
“Hey, you could watch the TV, you know.”
The boy stayed on the couch, unmoving. Jerron sighed and walked back to grab his workbag before putting it in his study and locking the door. When he came out to see the boy still staring at the purple curtains, he sighed and made his way to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Minutes later, he came out to place two bowls of spaghetti on the dining table, only to realize that his television was now turned on. Ezreal was staring at the news of Johan Avalon with an unreadable expression. At the sound of the bowl being placed on the table though, the brown eyes snapped upwards and stared longingly at the bowls.
It was the same expression of hunger he had this morning. Jerron stifled a laugh. He pushed a bowl towards him and the eyes turned to meet his in disbelief and suspicion. Jerron returned it with an innocent look.
After a few moments, Ezreal finally gave up and got off the couch. He walked awkwardly, almost disjointed to the dining table and Jerron was forced to be reminded of what happened to the boy he had picked up.
The older man frowned slightly as he watched the boy eat the food slowly with a hand, another still gripping the red blanket and the brown one underneath it. He looked at the dirt covering over the pale white skin and the rug with distaste.
It wasn’t until the boy finished his meal that Jerron finally spoke.
“You, Ezreal, are in a terrible need of a shower.”
~~~
Well, hello ha, people. We've reached the end of chapter 2. And again thanks for reading, comment and vote if you liked this chapter!
~JapFreaky 22/2/2014