I couldn’t tell you what time it is. I’m more comfortable than I have ever been. The sheets are cool and warm at the same time. I moved and I felt a charge shoot threw my body when I came in contact with him. The memories of the last 24 hours rushed through my mind. I turned my head and saw him still sleeping. That golden hair shinning in the light breaking through the blinds. He even has a cocky smile on when he sleeps. I move over closer to him and lay my head on his chest. He grumbles and wraps his arms around me resting his head on top of mine. I was drifting back off, enjoying this feeling, relishing in this feeling….

          “Nicholas!” –Slam-

          Nick bolted awake. The color washed out of his face and little beads of sweat were starting to form on his brow. His bottom lip was shaking just slightly and his breathing was ragged. He jumped over me and I followed him out of bed. I was reaching for my cloths when he turned to me and pulled me into a hug which I gladly gave back to him. We held each other until his breathing evened out.

          “Nicholas get your ass down here!” –From the first floor-

          “Please stay up here ok, don’t come down no matter what happens. Promise me? And don’t let Isis down, here claws scratch the floor. And if you hear footsteps running up here go hid in the closet.”

          His voice was a whisper with his hands holding each side of my face, and he looked desperate for me to agree. All I could do was nod my head as he began to fumble with his basketball shorts. I wasn’t scared I didn’t trust my voice to not show how angry I was. I wanted to know who had him so scared. He went down stairs and as the door closed I heard him say hey dad… his dad the one who hits him… My hands balled into fists, his voice was strong but did little to hide the fact it was laced with fear. FUCK! I paced the room and on the third pass I saw Isis staring at the door on full alert. I went and sat next to the dog and she laid her head and front paws down in my lap never losing sight of the door, waiting on Nick.

          Over the course of the next 45 minutes we heard yelling and the sound of something breaking in the distance. I wanted to charge out and look for him, but I promised… so I sat and hugged the dog and tried to bottle my rage. One of the voices was getting louder again and then suddenly the front door opened and slammed shut. Isis got out of my lap and started to paw and yip at the door in the floor. She was insistent and I was getting worried it was to quite. I had made him two promises to not let Isis out and to stay up here, but I was gonna break one. I put Isis outside on the porch to her dismay: man that is one powerful dog. And then I crept down his stairs until I reached the second floor; listening to hear anything and looking around to see if anyone was around. Nothing. I slowly walked my way down the last flight of stairs until I reached the main floor and my feet hit the cold wood. I turned towards the huge living room and then I heard it. It was muffled but I heard a sound… a sob. I followed my ears and quietly crept down the hall past the living room and around a corner where a broken vase laid shattered. I found him. Sitting on the floor knee’s pulled up head resting in his hands. I knelt down to him and he jumped and then looked into my eyes.

          “I told you not to fucking...”

          “Shut up.” I didn’t yell, but I was mad. I was pissed that I wasn’t with him to stop this from happening. He was crying on the floor and he had fist bruises on both his sides as well as on his chest. There was glass in his foot and cuts along his back from what I could tell. I pulled the glass out of his foot and wrapped the foot in a paper towel from the kitchen. It was a crappy job, but it would manage until we got back upstairs; I put his arm over my shoulder and pulled him up as he winced and cringed at the pain. We made the walk or hobble back upstairs, myself on high alert for when his father came back. When I opened the door we both looked up to see… Isis?

          “Wait, didn’t I put you out?” As she barks in response to my question.

          “She’s a really smart dog, don’t put anything past her. Move baby, go lay down. Can you take me to the bathtub?”

          “That was the plan. Relax.”

          After that he did relax, I brought him into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet with a sigh as his legs no longer had to support his weight. I turned on the water in the tub and adjusted the temperature which I was impressed I could even remember how to do considering the events that took place last time we were near the tub. While it filled I turned to him and helped him out of his shorts and trunks, and then I picked him up and placed him in the water.

          “Hey put me down!” He protested but let it rather quickly. I stepped over the rim of the tub and placed him in the water. I sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed his head while he soaked. He took my hand and began pulling me into the tub with him. I sat behind him wearing the basketball shorts from his floor I had slipped on and let him lean against me as his body ached and tears fell from his eyes. I didn’t know what I was doing, I was so confused. This was not like me, I had never showed so much concern for anyone other than my mother before… and yet here I was cradling this boy in the bathtub, heart racing at the thought of having to fight his dad if he comes back. As if he was reading my mind.

          “He’s gone till next Saturday. He only came back to get the briefcase he left in the closet.”

          “Why did yall fight?”

          “We don’t fight… he yells and screams… and hits… and I stand there and try better next time.”

          I squeezed him gently but tighter to my chest. “What made him hit you this time?”

          “He called me and I missed the call. He wanted me to bring his briefcase to the party last night at his boss’s house. He said that I embarrassed him by not answering and showing up with his briefcase. He yelled about did I understand how that made him look, like he had an irresponsible son as he hit me. Then he said I was just like my mother… that’s when he hit me in the chest and knocked me against the metal door that you found me on.”

          We just sat there in silence as he soaked, both in the warm water and in my arms. I moved from behind him and helped him stand up. I helped him dry off and then we walked back towards his bed where I sat him down. He asked if I could go back in his bathroom and get him the bottle marked Tramadol for the pain. Searching the large cabinet I finally found his medication and some bandages. He took the pills with a grimace while I got to work on his foot and laid him down. I stripped down and climbed back into bed with him. He curled up on his side as I scooted in behind him and draped an arm over his hip wrapping myself around him. He let out a contented sound and was soon asleep. Even though we had been up for an hour or two at the most, from yesterday morning at school with the almost fight to all the emotions then the middle of the night call from my mom and now with what just happened between him and his dad we were both about ready to pass out and sleep for a week.


          Had a relationship in the course of history had to go through so much in its first 36 hours? Was this a relationship? Yeah it was, regardless of if it was official, which was a big fat no, it was still a relationship. I wanted to do something fun today to take our minds off everything and just enjoy bein together, but first my sore body, and then the truck. I looked at the clock and it said 11:16. “Oh hell” I said softly. Dean began to move and with a yawn he looked down at me.

          “Wow your still here.”

          He said with an excitement that I found cute and with a shock that I tried hard not to laugh at.

          “Well this is my house after all.”

          “Oh…. Right….” His arms began to slide from around me and he looked sad, the kind of sad that leads to tears when you’re alone. “Well I guess I should get going, and…” I cut him off with a kiss. Slow and deep. All the tension in his muscles eased and he breathed a sigh of relief.

          “Let’s go to the kitchen and get something to eat.” I rolled over and began to stand up out of bed when the pain in my ribs and chest that I had forgotten about caught me by surprise and started to trip and fall, only to step right onto my cut food. “Oh fuck!” “I gotcha.” Dean was right there, fully alert. Faster than I thought I’d ever seen him move, which was remarkable because of how many times we had fought.

          I regained my balance but leaned on him all the same, just because it felt good. He smelled of my soap, him and morning. God it was amazing, and the fact that he was naked didn’t hurt at all, but priorities had to be handled. We made our way downstairs and turned left towards the kitchen. “Wait hold on.” He leaned me against the wall like a broom which I was about to protest and follow him, but he was gone in a flash. I heard the sounds of broken glass and sweeping… sweeping, what was he doing?! Then I remembered… this morning… he was cleaning up the broken vase for me. I slowly made my way to the end of the hall and around the corner just as he came back around it. He smiled shyly and looked down as my hand touched his cheek.

          “Thank you.” It was only a whisper

          “I didn’t want you to have to see it and be reminded, you have enough reminders without having to see that one.”

          I leaned against him and I couldn’t help it. Tears started to fall from my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back. A tear turned to two which turned to twenty which turned to a cascade. A cascade of emotions that I let out into his shoulder as he held me, squeezing me in his arms. I’d never had anyone care for me so much. Never had anyone taken care of me like he had today… not since she left…

          I swallowed hard and stood up placing my forehead on his. “Let’s go eat.” He said it stern and sweet, like what just happened was ok. We walked into the kitchen and he looked dazed and confused. “Ummmm…”

          “What do you want to eat Mr.?”


          “In this huge kitchen you want cereal? Well ok then what kind?”


          -Sigh- “Come on.”

          I hobbled over the pantry with him in toe and pulled the draw sting light. A gasp escaped his lips as he gazed at the huge walk in pantry with 15, yes 15 kinds of cereal. I’m not exactly sure myself why we had so many kinds, I only ate around 4 kinds myself, but I did eat them in large amounts and at various times of the day. Especially Saturday mornings, and yes with cartoons. I reach up for the frosted flakes and turn to Dean. “Get whichever one you want.” His eyes blinking and looked around confused and then reached up for the Honey Bunches of Oats as he eyed the Fruit Loops. –sigh- rolling my eyes I move his hand and grab the Fruit loops and hobbled out of the pantry to the bar and sat down.

          “I said get what you wanted, not what you think you should have.”

          I tried to sound as annoyed as possible, but I couldn’t stop smiling and the look on his face through all of this is too funny for words. I open the bags and grab two bowls from the pull out cabinet under the bar and begin to pour the cereal.

          “Hey can you grab the milk out of the fridge?”

          “Uhhh… which fridge?” Forgetting we have more than one fridge I snicker.

          “The silver one. The black one is just for booze and meat.”

          “Oh yeah cause that’s normal.” So much sarcasm on such an empty stomach.

          I can hear him open up the fridge and take in a dramatic breath. “Seriously, how many types of milk do two people need?!” I turn around to see him holding three gallons of milk waving them around with an exasperated look on his face and all I can do is laugh. Slowly at first, but it grows until I’m leaning over the bowl in front of me laughing.

          “You get nothing.” And with that he places all three gallons into the fridge and sits down next to me. I try to form the words to say I’m sorry, but nothing is working and the angry confused look on his face is only making it worse. “I will push you off that stool Princeton.” The laughing continues for another few minutes and then I get up kiss him on the forehead and hobble over to get the 2% milk out of the fridge. I pour his bowl of Fruit Loops and he crunches angrily at my smug face. It’s a good morning.



[email protected]


Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus