Red Headed Hurt

Author Note: A lot has happened to me since I lost passion and stopped this story. Some good, some bad. After a near-death experience last year, I started to explore my writing again, and here's hoping I've improved some as well. If you want a true understanding of setting, dynamics, and the trauma that will give this chapter light and depth, go back and have a read, but you don't necessarily have to. Also, as I'm just starting again, any comments and feedback would be amazing! Thanks, guys and gals!

Main Character Break Down:

Aiden Chambers: 18-year-old high school senior at All-Saint High School in Boston Mass. From an affluent family (both parents C-Suite executives) with large expectations placed upon him. 5'11, 205 lbs - lean athletic muscles, washboard abs, broad shoulders (masculine hour class figure), slightly wider hips, and an above-average bubble butt. Olive skin complexion from his mother's family and short light brown hair worn tight on the sides and slightly longer on the top. Piercing metallic grey eyes with perfect white teeth and a straight nose. All American Boy / Boy Next Door. Arrogant and at times flippant, yet with a heart that loves deeply and strongly.

Alroh O'Doherty (Nickname Irish): 18-year-old high school senior at All-Saint High School in Boston Mass. From a lower-middle-class family that fell into poverty after the sudden death of his mother in a car crash. Was a young man with a bright future, but all his dreams fell away as his family disintegrated and he turned to drugs and drink to cope. 6'1 230lbs of broad strong body, strong core with a little fluff on his stomach, powerful arms and thick legs with a tapered waist and tight average sized butt. Very fair-skinned with a few freckles across his back and the ridge of his slightly crooked nose. Shaggy fire red hair and a stubble beard. Blue eyes that change shades with his mood (usually piercing bright blue like the ocean or hollow washed out sapphire blue). Perfect teeth except for two chipped incisors on the top right side of his face, pierced tongue. The example of a strong Irish American boy. Guarded due to his past, but a soft soul inside.

Naomi Harris: 45-year-old proud strong black woman. 5'8 and 160'bs with small perks breasts, wide hips, hazel eyes, mocha skin, and braids wrapped up in a colorful headscarf. A strong southern woman and owner of Wonderland, a plant nursery and flower shop with her home above it. She is strong, determined, protective, and loyal.

Aiden Point of View

The drive was slow. Once I got out of the neighborhood, I doubled back and parked under a bridge just in case his brothers or father had jumped in their vehicles to give chase. I let my breathing slow down as Irish flung the door open to dry heave and spit. This day would stay with him for a long time, hell the entire last 5 would stay with both of us. I felt like I had aged with everything that had gone on. But at least we were one step closer to being safe. I was one step closer to making sure he was away from those bastards that almost took him from me, who tried to destroy him. When I thought enough time has passed I started the car and pulled from under the bridge. I took the rest of the drive slow as to not attract attention. The last thing we needed was to be pulled over, looking as rough as we looked, in a car that wasn't registered to either of us. I can see the headlines now. 'Aiden Chambers arrested in a stolen car.' Not in a million years. Glancing over at Irish, he looked like a ghost, lost in his thoughts. Reaching over, I took his hand, and it hung loosely in mine. I signed deeply and made my way back to Naomi's house.

I let my thoughts run wild as we drew closer to our destination. Sickness started to grip my stomach as I thought of the state of Irish when I arrived at his house. The gun, the fight, the shaking and thrashing about. The way he looked after his father beat him and the way he screamed for me to run, me not knowing his father was approaching behind me. His father would have killed me, of that I'm certain. Then my mind shifted to the soft tinder kisses, the gazes into each other's eyes, the color returning to his skin, and the smile playing across his lips. Our first fuck and all the emotions it brought out, the closeness of our souls. I tightened my grip and I felt the slight trembling. Stopped at a red light, I undid my seat belt and slide over to him, laying a soft kiss on his lips, bringing him back to this moment. My Irish, again, looked broken and hollow. I smiled at him laying another kiss on his soft lips. "You're free baby." He presses his forehead to mine, squeezes my hand, and lets out a breath I don't think he realized he was holding. We were brought back to reality by the honking of the car behind us. On the road again.

The remaining drive isn't as tense. He's breathing normally, and the color has returned to his face. He gazes out the window, squeezing my hand, and watches the scenery pass by. Turning left we entered Naomi's street and he visibly relaxes. He finally starts to feel safe. We pull up and park next to the business. A plant nursery with on-street parking and 2 stories built on top. Squeezing his hand I hop out of the car and rush to his side of the car. As I open the door I hear the door to the shop open, the clinking bell sounding loudly against the traffic on the street. I help Irish out of the car. Looking up he catches eyes with Naomi, who is headed towards us. He starts to cry, head shaking back and forth, and trembling. Collapsing into her he clings to her and sobs, loudly and painfully, head rested on her shoulder. She reaches out to me with one hand and pulls me into the hug as she soothes him and unknowingly me too. After several moments and numerous stares from passing pedestrians, Irish stands up and wipes his eyes. He giggles and reaches back to take my hand. Naomi puts a hand on both our shoulders and squeezes. "Well, I think it's high time to get something hot in you boys."

Walking into the shop we were met with the soft bright smiles of the two ladies that worked for Naomi. She headed towards the back door that led into the large garden when I had first met her. Turning to the right, we found a large, sturdy door which she unlocked and ushered us inside. On this floor, there's only a set of stairs leading up. Once on the 2nd floor, I take in a gorgeous open concept living room kitchen. For us to be in the middle of Boston, the inside had a farmhouse feel that felt so warm and inviting, just like her hugs or her macadamia nut cooks. She led us to the bar where we sat in wide-bottomed stools. She walked over to an extremely large crock-pot and opened the lid, giving it a stir with a large wooden spoon. Giving it a small taste she nodded her head and then reached above her head to the open shelving and pulled down two pristine white bowls. Grabbing a ladle she spooned us each a hearty helping of food that I couldn't make out and then reached into the oven and pulled out something yellow. It all smelled delicious and my stomach growled. Looking over at Irish, even he looked excited for what was to come. Pulling out two spoons, she slid the heaping bowls in front of us and I discovered that it was a hearty, meaty chili with cornbread. We ate happily in silence as Naomi got us each a glass of sweet tea - I never wanted to leave. Looking up I caught her eyes and she rubbed Irish's back as I started telling her about everything that had happened. When I go to the part about the gun, he just nodded and I continued on. At the end of it, Naomi bent over, kissing Irish on the top of the head, and walked to the microwave. Suddenly fresh cookies were placed on the counter for us to eat after our chili.

Despite being hearty it wasn't heavy and I thought even Irish's stomach could keep it down. It was also flavorful and full of love. I wanted to take some home. SHIT, home! I stopped eating and pulled out my phone. It was only 12pm. I sighed and sat the phone next to me. "I need to be home by the time school lets out, I could only buy myself these 5 days." He doesn't look at me, but his shoulder slump. "Don't you worry, he'll be safe here until you come back tomorrow," Naomi said as she smoothed the hair on his head. He really did look better, the love she felt for him filling him with something he hadn't had for a while. Hope. We finished eating and I excused myself to get everything out of the car and bring it upstairs as Naomi leads Irish to the sofa. They sat next to each other, and she took his hands in hers before I turned to head down the stairs. Back in the shop, I fully appreciated the scent of flowers and fresh plants. The lights in the shop were bright, and I found it all so soothing. Slowly I brought all the bags and things upstairs and helped a customer carry a fern tree out to his too-small car. Grabbing the last bag, I head upstairs for the last time and sit next to Irish which causes him to lean into me still holding Naomi's hands.

"We've been chatting, and Irish is gonna live here in the spare room right over there and work in the flower shop so I can keep an eye on him. He'll go to school and can go places with you, but nowhere else. Not until he's fully out of the danger zone of relapse, and just in case his family are out looking for him. They will probably show up at the school, so you need to fill out a police report of the violence. I tried to get him to press charges, but he won't." Naomi sighs. She says that by having the police report on file at school and with him being 18 his family won't be allowed on campus. I'm not sure how she knows this, but I don't ask, I'm just relieved that his family won't be able to get to him at school. "I can take him too and from school if he doesn't mind going early or staying late when I have basketball practice." From there the three of us create a plan and a routine. Naomi pulled out her phone and called the school saying she was Irish's new guardian and that he had been in an accident and would be back to school on Monday. She walked away into the guest room, closing the door, keeping us from hearing what she was saying, but her tone was undeniable.

Returning to the living room with a smile on her face she said everything was worked out and Irish fully relaxed. "I'm really safe, aren't I?" We all hugged on the sofa, and Naomi left us alone to go back to the shop and give us some time alone. I pulled him up and into my arms and lead him to what was now his bedroom and sat him on the bed. I brought all of his things, including the old rusted tin into the room and placed them along the wall. "I'll be back tomorrow to help you fully unpack." He nodded and smiled at me, a real smile. I set an alarm on my phone for 3:30pm and pulled him to me on the bed, his head laying on my chest. I stroked his back with my left hand and held his hand with my right. "Alexa play Yellow by Cold Play." The music starts to play softly and we just lay, enjoying the feel of each other. Never in my life had I felt more accomplished and more powerful. We were alive, whole together, and safe. Before the song even ended we were both overtaken by sleep. A sleep that didn't have nightmares and that wasn't interrupted by his withdrawals or my fear.