I put the address into my GPS. She told me that his room was behind the gate but in front of the fence on the back left side of the house in an off blue and dingy grey two story house on the right. I found the house easy enough, although if I hadn't known the color I would have been horribly lost even with my GPS. I texted Naomi that I was there, I didn't want here calling the cops unless it was necessary. I parked around the block and walked slowly and calmly down to Irish's house. I had to be careful, Naomi said that any unnecessary movements or any nervousness on my part would draw attention and attention is something that I didn't need to attract right now. As much as my pride had wanted to argue with her and yell that I could take on the world and win, I knew she was right. And honestly on the inside I was afraid.
I found his house. Only one old blue sedan sat in the driveway. I stopped to pull out a cigarette, I was already up to three, but it gave me an excuse to survey my surroundings. I made it look as if I was waiting on someone as I took slow drags to calm my nerves. There were only a few neighbors out and they were all paying me no mind. To them I looked like most of the young people in the area and they all assumed I was up to no good, but it didn't affect them and I wasn't one of theirs so they didn't care. I threw the cigarette in the street and placed the lighter back in pocket and began to head beside the house.
The side was unkept with losts of stuff I could only describe as junk in the way. I found the gate, but couldn't see where it opened due to the amount of vines growing over it. I placed my pack on the other side and quickly jumped over making as little noise as possible. I didn't know who would be home besides Irish. I found the window right behind the gate and saw vomit on the ground. It smelled terrible; I pushed dirt from ground into/onto it with my foot and the smelled lessened.
I lifted up his window and jumped threw it with a thud on the floor, I looked from the door to Irish and saw he was holding something. A gun.
"Irish... Irish it's me. Aiden."
His hands began to shake and I took in his horrible state. "Aiden?" His voice was so weak and raspy. The room smelled fowl as if no air had touched it in days. The gun dropped from his hands and I slowly moved it under the bedside table. Kneeling down in front of him and pulled his upper body into my lap and just stroked his face, moving the greasy hair out of his face. He feel asleep in my arms.
I laid him down, I could tell from his breathing that he would be out for a while. It sounded like my oldest brothers when he would pass out from a bender. I was just about to stand up when I heard the front door slam... I froze in my tracks. I listened closely and then I heard a car start and pull away. The last vehicle in the driveway, I thought back and remembered that his oldest brothers both owned trucks his sister owned a small car and his father, A HA! The old sedan was his fathers and I knew the house was empty. I stood up and quickly started cleaning the room. I first picked up all the dirty cloths and placed them in a corner of the closet. Neither closet had much in it. I then went around the room and put all the trash in a large black trash bag that was sitting in the middle of his room; almost as if he had started to clean it and he never finished. This took the longest amount of time and I placed the black bag with some effort out the window. I was now covered in sweat so I removed my shirt. I turned on the ceiling fan and a small desk fan and opened the windows to let the room air out. I moved a few things around to make the room look less cluttered and give it some space, putting things up off the floor and such. Straightening the tops of the desk, dresser, and the large wooden wardrobe; all old and hand me down The only things in his room were a TV stand with a flat screen TV on it the only modern thing in the room other than the DVD player sitting next to it, a clock, and a small gameboy. After I did this I looked at the... for lack of a better word, gross state of the bed. I remembered while putting things away I had seen some sheets and blankets in his closet at the top folded up. I went and got a set of non matching but properly fitting sheets and a blanket and changed the bed throwing the old linen in the closet with the other dirty cloths. I then went to my bag and pulled out a bottle of the rose water, having grabbed a few things including it from my car before leaving it behind. I sprayed it on the bed and around the room.
Alright now to the hard part, I had to see what sort of state he was in. I went to the bag and pulled out two towels, all the medical supplies, a jug of water, a wash cloth, and from his dresser got a new pair of black trunks and socks. I went over to him and started first by giving him a sort of bed bath, rinsing the sweat and grim from his entire body I was then able to see where his bruises and cuts really were. I washed his upper body first paying attention to under his arms, behind his ears and his face. I stood up and got some deodorant to put on him and then proceeded to pat him dry before I dressed his wounds. He had bruises on his right jaw, and to his ribs on the same side and a one on his back between his shoulder blades and to his left shoulder I held him against my chest and wrapped his ribs causing him to grown in his sleep. Moving a sleeping man was not easy and I had to fetch another towel to dry my face and upper body from the sweat I was not producing, thankfully from the fans not much though. With all the bruises taken care of as well as the scratch across his left check and above his left eye I laid him down on his left side and forced his boxers down. I then got the washcloth and water and rinsed his lower body. I took time to clean his butt and groin as well as his feet. His lower body wasn't in bad shape just a scrapped knee I had to bandage. I then slid the fresh boxers on his body after I had dried him off. Despite the intimate contact, I was too focused on making sure he was ok to get aroused. I sat back on to my legs and looked at him, he looked peaceful. I summoned my reserves of energy and strength and got him back onto his bed. He started to shiver so I closed the windows and turned off the desk fan and covered him with the blanket. I got myself cleaned up noticing that I was beginning to smell a lil rank from the work I had done.
He began to show signs of waking about 20 minutes later. I was just sliding on a new pair of red trunks I had grabbed from my extra cloths in my trunk. Tossing and turning in bed, wrestles and struggling. Suddenly he jolted up, fear and panic covering his face until pain forced them aside and he clumsily rolled out of bed, staggering towards the far window that I had climbed through earlier. I watched as he gripped the ledge and dry heaved above the open trash bag I had placed there earlier- this went on for 10 minutes as I watched in horror not realizing how bad he really was, and somehow despite being clean he looked so much worse. Desperate. Angry. I'd never seen this Irish.
"Irish" It only coming out as a whisper
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
His anger so think you could taste it. Before I could even respond he began on a tangent about how I didn't care about him and how yesterday was just a lie to me. About how he wished I'd just walk out of his life forever, and how he just wanted to die. I was so hurt and so worried. He pulled himself from the ledge and began pacing his room screaming for his gun and throwing things. I was really starting to panic as the constant twitching of his muscles and his painfully ragged breathing didn't bode well if kept this up. I could calm him down, hell I had to calm him down. I remembered from helping Mike take care of our oldest brother that you had to me firm but kind or nothing was going to get through.
"Irish, listen to me. I'm...."
Before I could formulate the rest of my thought he was upon me. With a frustrated wail he was on my, knocking us both to the floor, his hands wrapped around my neck. My head was spinning, I tried to fight him but I was tired and he had the advantage of both position and reach. I was getting dizzy, a single sob escaped my mouth and then it stopped.